"My sticky notes were torn off," she said.
Cheng Zhirang was taken aback, looking at the sticky notes on the floor that hadn't yet been pieced together and the paper balls thrown into the trash can.
"I," he suddenly hesitated, not quite understanding her obsession as an author with these inspirational sticky notes, unable to empathize, couldn't rashly comment, "Shall I put them together for you?"
"No need."
Mu Qiu gathered the sticky notes torn in half to her side, neatly folded them, and placed them into the nearby bag while asking,
"But Brother Cheng, can you answer a question for me?"
"What?"
"Without a secret marriage or having children, can we develop another kind of relationship?"
Cheng Zhirang lifted his radiant eyes, meeting her gaze with an unchanged expression.
There were still tears in her eyes, ready to flow down her cheeks to her delicately feminine chin, and finally drip onto her clothes with just a blink.
