Ling Hua felt bitterly cold, uncertain whether the chill was due to the intensifying rain outside, the mingling of wind and rain that made her feel cold, or because Yan Qing's words had peeled back the dark shadows she had desperately tried to hide from him, unraveling before his eyes, revealing how unworthy she was of him, how sordidly she clung to him despite it all, which made her feel cold.
In any case, she was so cold that she trembled.
Yan Qing thrust the umbrella back into her hands, "Hold it tight. If it falls again, no one will pick it up for you."
Ling Hua numbly secured the umbrella, her mind a tumultuous sea, finding herself unable to utter a word.
Yan Qing glanced at her and felt that this appearance of hers, more genuine and pleasing than all the others she had shown before him, was enough for him. After watching for a moment, he felt he had seen enough and stepped out from under the umbrella, turning away and leaving.
