Mo Xiuchen's voice carried on: "Even though Cheng Jia declared herself to be my fiancée, saying we used to be in love, the truth is I can't stand the sight of her now. I made it clear to her. Until I regain my memory, our wedding is postponed. She is just my secretary, or at most, a friend."
"Ranran, would you feel annoyed by the amount of information I am giving you?"
Mo Xiuchen paused halfway through his sentence to ask, his tone laced with a hint of worry.
Apparently, he is concerned about boring her with his talk and decided not to proceed any further.
Wen Ran fought the tears welling up in her eyes, responding softly: "Not at all."
What she wanted to say was, "Xiuchen, you could talk forever; it would never bother me. I just feel heartache for you."
But she could not say those words out loud.
"That's good to hear."
Mo Xiuchen seemed to relax and laugh upon her assurance, then asked: "When suggest I call Cheng Jia?"
