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The bedroom was in complete disarray, with every breakable object shattered.
Mo Chen leaned against the door, lighting a cigarette that he placed between his lips, the irritability in his heart not subsiding from smashing things, but intensifying instead.
A gloomy sense of decadence enveloped his handsome features, making him seem as if he had emerged from hell itself.
...
Qiao Ruoxin stood silently outside the door for a while, then she went back to her room and came out with a guitar.
She sat on the carpet with her back against the door, her gaze faintly sweeping over the rain outside the window.
She lowered her eyes, her slender fingers plucked the guitar strings, and the prelude began to play slowly...
It was Jay Chou's "Sunny Day".
A smile curved Qiao Ruoxin's lips, and her clean, sweet voice sang, "The little yellow flowers of the story have been drifting since the year of my birth, the childhood swings swing with the memories until now..."
