"I'm being honest," he said, his voice softer, laced with sincerity. "The Chen Lin on screen is like a work of art—flawless, poised, every move and word deliberate, calculated. But she feels distant, almost like an illusion. A figure behind glass, untouchable. Unreal. But yesterday, when I saw you at your most vulnerable—raw and unguarded—that was when I truly saw you. Not the Film Goddess, not the star people worship, but you. And that version of you... feels real."
Chen Lin froze, her eyes still fixed on the passing city lights outside the window.
"And the more time we spend together," he continued, his tone even more earnest now, "the more I uncover the layers beneath the surface. There's so much more to you—your warmth, your fire, the way you stand your ground. It's all captivating. And honestly… I'm looking forward to seeing all of it. Piece by piece. To truly knowing you, the real you."
