After that, they met again, six years later. She was fourteen, and Li Qingshen had returned from abroad. On New Year’s Eve, they had a meal, and he gave her his first gift.
Later on, Li Qingshen came back several times. The two of them would just have meals together, and each time he never forgot to give her a gift. Occasionally, he would also slip her some money.
By rights, Li Qingshen wasn’t particularly bad to Ling Momo. They weren’t related by blood, and yet he took care of her. However, Ling Momo just didn’t have a good feeling towards Li Qingshen. Thɪs chapter is updated by novｅlfire.net
The Ling family wasn’t well-off. Her parents had died, and her grandparents had passed away early too, so she only lived with her great-grandfather. Every time Li Qingshen came to visit his grandmother, her great-grandmother, the great-grandfather would always instruct her to attend to Li Qingshen.
Perhaps it was during that time that she started to dislike Li Qingshen. He was clearly six years older, yet she had to serve him tea and water.
Moreover, Li Qingshen was outstanding, doing well academically and later excelling at work. He came from a good background, had a bit of a solitary nature, and his gaze was always cold and indifferent. This made Ling Momo instinctively feel inferior.
Actually, Li Qingshen just had that ability, making everyone who saw him feel inferior.
So, Ling Momo really didn’t like that feeling, yet she couldn’t resist and had to comply. Over time, she just started to dislike it more.
Thinking about it, Ling Momo really didn’t know exactly what she disliked about Li Qingshen, but she just found him a bit dislikeable.
If Li Qingshen wasn’t the legendary myth he was, she probably would never dream of having contact with such a proud man.
To be precise, she didn’t have the courage to get close.
Yet now, thinking about it, she realized she had no way out. The only path she could take was to rely on this legend, Li Qingshen, to gradually rise up.
Ling Momo thought of this, and a slight melancholy set in. What exactly did she need to do to end this repetitive life of copying and writing?
Biting the pen, she wondered what she should do to secure the right to sing Li Qingshen’s latest masterpiece.
Ling Momo knitted her brows, pondering but unable to come up with a good solution. She could only bow her head dejectedly and continue copying and writing.
Li Qingshen sat on the sofa nearby, his expression indifferent, yet his gaze remained fixed on Ling Momo.
Every move she made, each expression, and every subtle action never escaped his eyes.
He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he felt that her vivid expressions, changing little by little on her clean and innocent face, were perhaps the most beautiful scenery he had ever seen.
At fourteen, when he met Ling Momo at his grandmother’s wedding, he had an idea then and there to turn this delicate porcelain doll of a girl into his pet. At that time, he just thought that the tender little girl was particularly cute; as time passed, for some reason, that idea turned into a desire.
At twenty, after leaving for six years and returning to X City, she had grown into a graceful young woman. That desire had become deeply ingrained, and he wanted to take her as his wife. But thinking she was too young, he decided to wait two more years before bringing it up.
The departure lasted another two years, and when he returned, before he had a chance to ask her to be his girlfriend, she bashfully told him she had developed feelings for a boy in the neighboring class.
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