Shi Yuhuan spoke indifferently, "I can solve everything and I don't need your help, Song Qinghuan."
Without speaking, Song Qinghuan's lips noticeably pouted.
A moment later, she said softly, "I just hope the issue can be resolved. Don't you feel that the days when the old man's whereabouts are unknown are like walking on the edge of a knife?"
Shi Yuhuan looked at her deeply, "If I say that even if the old man's matter were resolved, or rather, even if the old man's issue was resolved, it wouldn't change the fact that I live every day on the edge of a knife, that my life will always be like this, perched on the blade's edge. Knowing this, do you still want to be with me?"
Song Qinghuan furrowed her brows and looked at him, "Shi Yuhuan, why would you say something like that? I've never felt that the days spent with you were on the edge of a knife..."
