Cheng Weiyue simply took out her phone and called Cai Ancheng.
She did so with a nonchalance that bordered on indifference, her demeanor icy and detached.
Such a Cheng Weiyue seemed a perfect match for her beauty and temperament.
She seemed destined to be like this, a red rose out of reach, distant and haughtily beautiful.
Was it because of love?
Had love made the once-groveling, dust-covered her bend and scrape before myself?
This thought caused Zhao Hanchen immense pain, as if every nerve was being tugged, the sensation of agony reaching its limit.
Could he stand losing Cheng Weiyue?
Could he endure a life in which she had nothing to do with him anymore?
Could he bear never seeing himself in her eyes again?
Have you ever cherished a rose? Have you lost her? Have you forgotten to love her properly?
Now that you've lost her, does your heart ache?
Cheng Weiyue's call connected, with Cai Ancheng on the other end asking her, "Weiyue, why haven't you arrived yet?"
