With a trembling voice full of tender confession, the words spilled from Yan Xinxin's lips.
She reached out and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, her tear-streaked face burying itself against him, her sobs quickly soaking the collar of his shirt.
The unexpected scene left Mo Chuxi momentarily stunned.
Listening to her sobs and smelling the faint fragrance on her, his long-tightly knitted brows suddenly relaxed, and a thin layer of moisture formed at the corner of his eyes.
Mo Chuxi slowly lifted his broad palm and placed it on Yan Xinxin's head, gently stroking her hair.
In all the vast world, she had always been the only one who could so deeply stir his heart.
Whether it was Mu Qianyuan or Yan Xinxin.
From the beginning to the end, it was just her.
Her secret—that she liked him—he had already known for a long time, had already seen through it.
Yet waiting for her to confess it aloud had never been easy.
