No, for "Xiaoquan Aonai," it should be morning.
She should be hurriedly getting out of bed, randomly throwing on a brand-new dress, grabbing some bread, and running to class.
Instead of being here, burdened with guilt nearly severe enough for murder, crying those damn tears.
"It's all my fault, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Dubian Che had never been so upset.
She had been crying for a long time, and when Dubian Che's clothes were as soaking wet as if drenched by a cup of water, "Xiaoquan Aonai" gradually shifted to sobbing and slowly stopped her tears.
"I'm sorry," she said, choking up.
"This is all my fault, I'm the one who should be saying sorry."
"I nearly killed you."
"That's my fault, too, it has nothing to do with you," Dubian Che's tone was firm.
"Are you trying to comfort me?" "Xiaoquan Aonai" lifted her face.
That sixteen-year-old oval face, beautiful, youthful, vibrant, covered in tears.
"No," Dubian Che shook his head and replied in a low voice.
