A couple days ago when Xu Jiamu appeared in by Song Xiangsi’s home, it was clear to her that they would never have a happy ending. She had given him seven years of her youth, the most beautiful years of her life had been dedicated to him, and she wasn't about to let herself waste anymore of her time. But despite how rational she was, when he held onto her tightly, the tears streaming onto her neck, she felt a hard to explain helplessness. When he weakly pleaded for her to accompany him for a while, just a little while, all her logic collapsed, surrendering to him once more.
She wasn't sure if this time, their relationship would end in bliss or tragedy.
But it was clear that she still cared about him.
Song Xiangsi pushed open the door lightly. Xu Jiamu was sitting on the sofa, staring at his phone intently, seemingly in a daze. In front of him was a stack of papers.
