When Wen Zhiyuan looked up, he saw Qin Chen holding Shen Di.
His heart began to race and the blood in his veins boiled; he still couldn't forget her, still couldn't accept that the woman he loved was with someone else.
Yet, the person she loved was Qin Chen, and he couldn't destroy her happiness.
Thinking of this, a surge of frustration built up inside him, so he left Xiaobao and headed to the smoking room.
Over the years, he rarely smoked, but every time he did, it was because of her.
There was no one else in the smoking room, only him.
Surrounded by smoke, he plunged into a pit of inescapable gloom.
What do eight years matter? Even in eighty, he wouldn't forget her. The promises he made wouldn't change. But she, she had changed her mind.
Halfway through the cigarette, the door to the smoking room was pushed open—it was Qin Chen.
"Mr. Wen." Qin Chen nodded at Wen Zhiyuan.
Wen Zhiyuan didn't say much, remaining silent.
