Qiao An's mind was blown. In the face of Huo Xiaoran's straightforward request, she was actually a little embarrassed and uneasy.
She thought of those youthful and beautiful vows. He professed to love her, protect her, hold her hand, and grow old with her. She respected him and felt sorry for him. She wanted to be his gentle flower and give him the warmest light in the world.
She wanted to disregard everything and sink with him. But—her conscience, her morals, wouldn't allow her to fall.
"Brother Xiaoran, you can't," she resisted.
When he bent to kiss her cheek, she clearly wanted to respond to him, but what she finally did was push him away ruthlessly.
"An'an, come back to me. Okay?"
"I don't do third parties." Qiao An sat up abruptly.
Huo Xiaoran sat up and pulled her into his arms. "Silly, how could I put you in such an awkward situation? You're not a mistress."
