Qiao Yun gazed at Li Hanzhou, who was laughing almost hysterically, her expression growing chillier by the moment.
Li Hanzhou stopped laughing, but the upward curve of his lips still betrayed how pleased he was at that moment.
Suddenly, he reached out, took a strand of hair that was falling over Qiao Yun's shoulder, and played with it between his fingers, much like the look in his eyes.
It was pervaded with undisguised, passionate tenderness.
He had never hidden the way he looked at Qiao Yun; it was simply that Qiao Yun didn't understand.
"Have you figured out the answer?"
The man's deep voice slowly rose, each word imbued with gentleness.
Qiao Yun quickly stepped back, creating distance between them, and said with difficulty, "I can't comprehend what you mean by a different kind of 'like'."
As she spoke, her delicate and pretty brows furrowed with a hint of apology.
Because she couldn't understand, she couldn't provide an answer.
