Yan Zao stood in front of her, motionless, without even blinking.
Her tone was still calm, "The truth indeed hurts, but it can help you cut your losses in time."
"I don't believe the truth you're talking about. Haoche loves me; I can feel it."
Lu Fei shook her head, walking toward the bed while muttering to herself, "He loves me; he couldn't possibly hurt me. He still wants to be with me."
Her voice had gone hoarse.
For a moment, Yan Zao felt a surge of pity.
But her pity was useless.
Since she had come, she had to see it through to the end.
Lu Fei lay down on the bed, curled up, tears slipping down from the corners of her eyes.
Yan Zao watched, her heart giving a fierce tug as if she saw her past self.
Turns out, no matter who it is, they're all the same in love.
