Ling Muye's tone lost its former aggression and sounded somewhat desolate.
Sheng Qianxia stiffly looked at him as if she hadn't expected him to ask such a question.
She couldn't precisely answer whether she had ever liked him, but what she could be sure of was that she once cherished the good times he had given her.
She remembered the year Gong Beiyao graduated from high school—
That day, the chocolate she made for Gong Beiyao was smashed to pieces by his own hands.
It was Ling Muye who came to her side, picked up the crushed chocolates, and ate them one by one.
He even told her it tasted good and asked her to stop crying.
When she heard him say that, she cried even harder.
Yet, he was so gentle, smiling as he asked her if he could keep the chocolates, asking if she was willing.
He knew well that they weren't made for him.
He knew they were rejected by someone else.
But he still asked if he could have them, carefully tasting them—
As if he truly cherished them.
