Fu Tingyu straightened up. Boss's eyes darted around before he slipped away, brushing against Fu Tingyu's legs.
Fu Tingyu didn't bother with Boss. His dark eyes landed on the post-it. There was a poem written on it.
In death or life, we are separated and far apart,
With you, I made an agreement.
I grasped your hand,
Together with you, I was to grow old.
--Qin Shu
His gaze was fixed on Qin Shu's name. The handwriting and the signature all pointed to the fact that Babe had written this.
He suddenly remembered the sticky spot on his computer screen last night. Such sticky spots would appear when post-its were pasted on that spot for a long time.
This post-it could also have been pasted on the computer.
Then, could this poem have been written for him?
Fu Tingyu's pitch-black eyes shone with a strange light because of his excitement.
But he quickly suppressed the excitement in his heart.
