Zhang Ziwen watched her silhouette disappear around the corner of the stairs. These past few days of cold silence, today was the day with most dialogues. Yet, today's conversation was filled with sorrow. His heart felt as if it was burdened by a heavy stone, so heavy, slightly painful, leaving him breathless, Tang Ying, the beautiful and noble woman, how could his heart not ache?
The night was deep, and snow was falling outside like goosefeathers. But the luxurious bedroom was as warm as spring. During dinner, Tang Ying did not come downstairs. From the moment she ascended the stairs, Zhang Ziwen did not see her again. The plane ticket lay beside his bed. Tomorrow, he would leave New York, leave the beautiful Tang Ying. As he lay tossing and turning in bed, he wondered why, when he was about to leave her, did she not spend more time with him? Was she still angry at him? Yet, it did not seem so. Zhang Ziwen sighed lightly, he couldn't understand.
