Chen Mumu's heart pounded in her chest when there was no response from the other side of the door.
Her grip tightened on the doorknob as she tried again. "Who is it?"
The silence stretched for a second too long.
Then, finally, the voice she had been longing to hear reached her ears.
"It's me."
Her breath hitched.
It was Xu Jingli.
In an instant, all the fear, all the uncertainty that had been gripping her heart melted away. She fumbled with the lock, her hands trembling, and yanked the door open.
And there he was.
Xu Jingli stood before her, looking exhausted. His usually neat appearance was nowhere to be seen—his hair was slightly tousled, his shirt wrinkled, his tie loosened. He looked like he hadn't rested properly in days.
Yet, even in this disheveled state, he was breathtaking.
His deep-set eyes met hers, filled with something unspoken, something heavy.
