If he has done so much for her in secret, why does he always have the face of a creditor when they meet face-to-face, never once showing her a hint of kindness, even appearing cold to the point of making one feel sorrowful?
Is this what liking someone looks like? Yet if he doesn’t like her, how could that be explained?
With the nature of their relationship, he really didn’t need to do so much for her. Whether she’s facing life, aging, sickness, death, or even jail time, none of that would affect their agreement.
What exactly is the reason? She didn’t want to be left in the dark. At the very least, she needs to thank him. Without his generous help, she might still be sitting in that sultry interrogation room, possibly having already signed a confession in her dizziness.
After waiting a long time, Mu Shuoqian still hadn’t come out. Separated by a door, the room was very quiet. She felt it inappropriate to knock, so she could only stand outside waiting. Standing until she was tired, Gu Qili rubbed her sore legs and sat down against the wall. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn novel(ꜰ)ire.net
Having not slept for a day and a night, drowsiness swiftly enveloped her. Gazing at the still tightly shut door, she slowly closed her eyes, and she fell deeply asleep.
Mu Shuoqian opened the door just in time to see the person sitting at the doorway, with her slender legs pulled up to her chest, head resting on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs. Because she was sleeping so soundly, her head occasionally lolled to one side.
Thinking of what she endured at the police station, his sharp black eyes turned even darker, swirling with a terrifying vortex, as if they wanted to devour everything fiercely.
Was he too lenient towards those people who did not understand their place?
Mu Shuoqian bent over to lift her, feeling her bony arms dig into him, causing him to frown dissatisfiedly. Why so thin, bookworm, only knowing to study?
He carried her to her room, pulled back the covers, and laid her down.
She was sweaty from sweating so much, her clothes damp, and in such hot weather, it was inevitable there would be a touch of body odor mixed with her own scent clinging to his clothes, creating an odd smell.
Mu Shuoqian, with his hands braced on the side of the bed, almost touched his handsome face to hers. Her every breath, every furrow of her brow, every pursing of her lips—he saw it all clearly.
Still the image from his memories, so much time had passed, yet she seemed as if she had taken preservatives, never having changed at all.
He lifted the corner of his lips, gently brushed away the fringe on her forehead, his lips coldly brushed against her somewhat furrowed brow, smoothing it with his thumb before carefully kissing it.
Her skin was cool, but her breath was warm. He closed his eyes, softly inhaling the fragrance from her hair, the scent entwining with his memories like returning to that rainy afternoon, when she stood there, smiling at him.
"Daddy, don’t go." The person in her sleep suddenly reached out to grasp something.
Mu Shuoqian sharply noticed the small wounds on her palm, marks from her nails digging into her flesh, using pain to keep herself from submitting, stubbornly holding on until Nan Zhan arrived.
Mu Shuoqian’s gaze grew colder as he carefully placed her hand back under the cover, turning to leave with a deeply chilly expression.
He wouldn’t let off anyone involved in this matter.
When Gu Qili woke up, it was already evening. Fine rain strands pattered against the window, creating a rustling sound.
Spring in Aus City is always filled with prolonged rain, but as a local, she was long accustomed to it.
Realizing she was properly lying on the bed, she understood that it was Mu Shuoqian who had carried her here. Filled with gratitude but also a bit embarrassed, she had been a mess from the chaos at the police station. Having a predilection for cleanliness, he must have been utterly appalled by her state.
Gu Qili quickly took a bath and changed into clean clothes, remembering that she still had things to ask Mu Shuoqian, she scuttled out of her room wearing her slippers.
At that moment, the front door was pushed open from the outside. Mu Shuoqian stood in black clothing under the porch, seemingly just having finished handling his affairs. Holding a black umbrella in his hand, a thin layer of mist covered his shoulders while rainwater trailed down from the umbrella, meandering like a creek and pooling on the steps at the entrance.
Through the mist of rain, his deep, inscrutable black eyes were gazing at her, as murky as the rainwater itself.
She suddenly remembered, a year ago, he had appeared before her for the first time, in exactly the same manner.