Jing Yi took another sip of red wine and did not hide the truth, "Four years ago."
Jing Chen's fingers suddenly tightened, and the wine bottle "crashed" against the wall not far away.
Glass shards and wine stains instantly splattered everywhere.
Jing Yi raised his hand to block a piece of glass flying towards his face. The cut on the back of his hand, in the heavy night, seemed to not even feel painful.
Jing Chen's voice was hoarse, as if in disbelief, "So, even my dearest brother has been deceiving me, is that it?!"
For the past four years, it was only him, like a fool, who knew nothing about Ranran. He could only console his heart, which yearned for her, by drawing her portraits day and night...
"Brother, I have never deceived you."
