He saw Cheng Weiyue tilt her face up to smile at Zhou Jingwei, her eyes bright and filled with an unknowing reliance, "Could you teach me how to care for it? I'll go back and tell my mom."
Zhou Jingwei said he could, handing her the teacup he was holding, "Have some water first."
The teacup that was passed over was of a light shade of jade green, carved from a single piece of fine jade.
Ge Jingcheng's father was fond of collecting jade, and their home was not short of fine jade pieces, yet the quality of the jade like the one before his eyes was very rare.
And this was merely being used as an ordinary teacup.
Ge Jingcheng felt an indescribable sense of powerlessness.
What kind of life could he offer Cheng Weiyue? He had nothing to give.
He subconsciously reached into his coat pocket, where there was a small gift box, the present he had intended to give to Cheng Weiyue.
Now, it seemed there was no need to give it to her anymore.
