Nanxi pursed her lips, uncertain how to feel. Ultimately, she could not refute Han Baobao's words because she truly wasn't a match for Li Weihuan.
Since she was around fourteen or fifteen—like all innocent and inexperienced girls her age—Nanxi once fantasized about love:
Picking a city in the future, meeting someone, and spending the rest of her life with that person, growing old together and enjoying their remaining peaceful years.
Nanxi thought that it was a good idea, and beautiful.
Meeting Li Weihuan, Nanxi felt it might be a form of grace bestowed upon her by the heavens. When she felt most powerless and helpless, Li Weihuan appeared as a jovial young boy whose laughter was as brilliant as spring sunshine. He brought her frail, slender form into his not-so-strong embrace, providing her warmth.
Warmth, for Nanxi who was once cornered by destiny into a bleak situation, was akin to salvation.
It pulled her out of the snares of confusion and despair.
