Ziyang has always been composed and gentle in front of her. Even when he was taken to the detention center back then, he never showed a hint of fear. But now, she actually saw panic and fear in his eyes.
Involuntarily, scenes from last night flashed through her mind — he was drunk, almost unconscious, yet still gripping her hand, repeatedly calling her name, pleading with her not to leave him.
Dong Xin Yan lowered her eyes, her heart swelling with an unbearable ache. Her hands unconsciously twisted together, her voice almost hoarse, "Ziyang, what are you saying? You're drunk. Of course, I won't leave you alone, after all, we... ."
She habitually said "we," but what are we really? Before, they were lovers, engaged to be married. Now... what are they?
Guilt and heartache spread wildly throughout her body. She couldn't continue talking, abruptly turned around, and inhaled deeply, speaking in a low voice, "The porridge is ready, I'll serve it for you."
