The room next door, separated by a wall.
Mo Chuxi sat on the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window.
He was dressed in a white bathrobe, his long and slender legs casually crossed, with a peach-flavored lollipop in his mouth.
The gentle morning light illuminated his handsome and resolute face, softening the cold lines it usually held.
A breeze passed through, but it couldn't smooth out the tightly furrowed brows on his forehead.
Mo Chuxi held a laptop in his arms, his long fingers moving back and forth across the keyboard and touchpad.
His usually steady heartbeat still hadn't settled down at this moment.
A mix of worry and joy tangled together.
An inexplicable, intertwined emotion.
He was glad that Mu Qianyuan hadn't died in the accident, but he didn't want Yan Xinxin to misunderstand that he cared about her only because of Mu Qianyuan.
At least after meeting Yan Xinxin, he was certain he had truly fallen for her.
