"What are you afraid of?" Fu Yihan's eyes glinted with amusement. "Do you think I would implicate the innocent?"
Su Qingnuan awkwardly chuckled. Her earlier reaction had been purely instinctive.
She changed her shoes, walked over, and crouched down to help Fu Yihan remove his shoes.
Sitting in the wheelchair, Fu Yihan glanced at the top of her head. Her tidy hair lay softly against her, much like her personality.
"Do you think I'm heartless?" he suddenly asked.
Su Qingnuan was stunned for a moment. She raised her head and met his gaze.
There was no guilt in his eyes, nor a shred of evasion—just a hint of inquiry, an almost curious probing.
"No," Su Qingnuan shook her head calmly. "This situation is Fu Yixing's fault. He refused to admit his mistake and ran away halfway. You did the right thing."
"Heh—"
Fu Yihan chuckled softly, and suddenly Su Qingnuan felt a weight on the top of her head. She looked up, surprised.
