Translator: Lonelytree Editor: Millman97
As he stepped out of the shadows, Su Zhinianâs perfect face became increasingly noticeable. He didnât hurry to leave but stood quietly under the lonely street lamp. His gaze followed Qin Yinanâs car until it disappeared into the traffic.
A light shower started to fall from the sky. It was not heavy; instead, it was small and loose like a womanâs hair.
The rain wasnât heavy, but as he stood there, his dark hair eventually became wet and clung to his face.
Regardless, he still showed no intention of leaving. He had one of his hands in his pocket, and he stood there quietly, staring at the empty street as if he had all the time in the world to waste.
The rain started to fall in earnest. His presence that was clean, elegant, and cold was colored by the falling rain to gain a sense of melancholy. His white dress shirt was soaked, and the half-opaque fabric stuck to his skin.
Water droplets collected on his hair trailed down his perfect profile before falling to the floor. He didnât seem privy to what a sexy scene he was creating in the rain; he merely stood there, quietly staring at the empty streets.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om
He couldnât tell how he woke up. When he did, he had found himself at Yun Nan in spring.
Later, it was his secretary who had filled him in on all the happenings. His situation had been getting worse when he was seeking treatment in Beijing; he had been unconscious for more than half of the month. The group of expert doctors hired from around the world had not been able to do anything to save him.
Finally, running out of options, with Doctor Xiaâs personal recommendation, they had taken him to Yun Nan to seek the counsel of a senior practitioner of Chinese medicine. It was then that his condition had gradually improved.
His memory of his life at Yun Nan consisted of medicine, inspections, and medical examination...
And, of course, memories of her.
He really didnât expect that he would have such a dramatic reunion with her on the side of a busy street on the first day he returned to Beijing. He didnât even have time to prepare for it.
When their eyes met for that one moment, in his heart, he had already pulled her deeply into his embrace, telling her the misery he had been subject to due to being forcibly taken away from her.
However, those were words only for his heart. They would never see the light of day. All he could give her was aloofness and distance.
His clear pair of dark eyes flashed with misery. His gaze became lost, and the hand that was stuck in his pocket clenched tightly into a fist, suppressing the pain that was raging through his heart.
When he signed the hundred-day contract with her, even without that accident, he had already prepared to make a clean break with her when the contract ended, because she was, for him, a dream that couldnât survive a day in reality.
In fact, when the knife plunged into his heart, a part of him had wished that it would be the death of him.
That way, he wouldnât have to wake up to a world where she wasnât around him anymore. He wouldnât feel pain from having separated from here; he wouldnât feel pain from having to fake a chilling presence around her; he wouldnât feel pain from his inability to love her.
Those hundred days were the most beautiful and selfish dream he had given himself.
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