Huo Zhenyang's eyebrows knitted together, but he remained silent for a long time.
He had never uttered those three words.
Subconsciously, he actually held some disdain for those men who constantly sweet-talked with "I love you."
To like a woman, to keep her by your side, to ensure she doesn't leave, that was enough.
"I love you"? Was it useful?
Huo Tianpei used to kiss his birth mother's forehead and affectionately say "I love you" before every business trip.
But when his mother passed away later, he didn't even rush back, and within a few years, he married another woman.
Those words seemed to be entirely absent from his dictionary.
Asking him to say such things was difficult.
After a long silence.
Seeing her disappointed little face, his mind stirred.
Just then, the iron door to the rooftop creaked open ajar.
