The corridor was very quiet, with only the sound of the wind passing through, Luo Ya's hair was tousled by the wind, and her eyes were very red. Large teardrops kept sliding from the corners of her eyes, falling across the tip of her nose onto her clothes, and Su Fan's heart was also in disarray.
Tears are a woman's weapon, the softest knife cuts deepest.
"I'm, I'm sorry," he said.
He hung his head low, not daring to look directly at Luo Ya.
Contrary to the situation when he brought food at noon, now the roles of the two were reversed.
But Luo Ya remained silent, just staring steadily at Su Fan as if she wanted to see right through his heart.
"Otherwise, hit me twice to blow off some steam?"
Su Fan suggested, his voice betraying his guilt.
Luo Ya continued her silence.
For a full two minutes.
Su Fan finally couldn't hold it in anymore.
His conscience was plaguing him.
"Luo Ya, maybe things aren't what you think they are. Su Ya and I—we don't have anything going on."
