Wen Yi nodded, as if she agreed with his words.
But in reality, her mind was a mess. It was as though she was clear-headed, able to understand and digest every word he said, yet at the same time, it was like she hadn't taken in anything.
He was always so composed, composed to the point of being indifferent, giving people the impression of callousness and cold-bloodedness.
But a long time ago, what she had been infatuated with was probably this very demeanor.
Proud and indifferent, calm and sober, in the midst of fame and fortune, even at its peak, yet it seemed as though he was never burdened by fame or fortune. Whatever he wanted, he would get, but none of it could bind or control him. Instead, he was the one to dominate them, including his emotions.
At seventeen, their first encounter: fine clothes, exquisite wine, brilliant lights—he seemed born for such occasions. Without saying or doing anything, he would attract attention, his aura alone making him the center of focus.
