Qiao Xiaon'an's petite figure disappeared in the glossy and bright office area. Chu Nantian continued to look in the direction in which she'd left, his brows furrowed. Beside him, Yuan Yifan repeated that she's willing to leave Chu Nantian and Qiao Xiaon'an, willing to concede the relationship to them.
Only then did Chu Nantian stop staring, he muttered, "It's too late!" Yuan Yifan, with tear-streaked eyes, grabbed his hand. She had a pitiful, pleading expression, "Nantian, what are you saying?"
"Nothing." Chu Nantian's slender fingertip landed on her forehead, brushing the stray hair from her face, "From now on, don't ask to be forgiven by Xiaon'an. It's not your fault, it's mine."
As he escorted the fragile Yuan Yifan from the department, the employees who had long resumed their duties, were still eavesdropping on their conversation:
