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Her hand rested on the back of the wheelchair, her voice bland and cool, "I'll help you up."
She lowered her head, not looking into Shen Cexian's eyes; instead, it was Shen Cexian who kept staring at her.
"If you don't want me to push you, I can leave," Zhou Ran said.
She lifted her gaze slightly, not a trace of sparkle in her eyes, as if she were speaking to a man completely irrelevant to her.
Suddenly, Shen Cexian lifted his hand, placing his broad palm on the back of her hand.
"Zhou Ran..." He called her name, his eyes filled with unending regret.
Years pass, clothes wear thin. Dusk dyes, morning chill bites.
Time slips away, like a swift horse racing by...
Though it was summer, Shen Cexian's hand was icy cold, causing Zhou Ran to tremble slightly when he placed his hand on hers.
She moved her eyelids, thinking of looking up, but in the end, she still didn't look at him.
"The elevator is here," she said indifferently.
