Song Zhaozhao lifted her head from Qin Yao's embrace, her brows and eyes curved, her eyes so bright as she said, "I thought, this was our common understanding."
Contrary to the lively hustle and bustle of the crowd on site, at the entrance of the award dinner, a lone figure stood in solitude, greatly desolate.
It was Zheng Heng.
He had changed a lot over the years, lacking the flamboyance and youthful air of the past, having matured and steadied.
But once the growth trajectories of two people fail to intersect, then everything loses its meaning.
Zheng Heng, looking at Song Zhaozhao on the stage, held in Qin Yao's arms, her face brimming with happiness, finally understood clearly that he had probably lost her forever.
Now, looking back on the start of their story, it was nothing more than the whim of a young master who took an interest in an edgy, little-known singer.
