Lu Niange's expression turned dull instantly, as weary as could be, as lonely as could be.
He couldn't believe it, and it seemed he couldn't accept it, perhaps it was inconceivable to him. He shook his head, muttering, "Impossible... It shouldn't..."
Impossible? It shouldn't?
What did his words mean?
Was Ling Momo still deeply in love with him?
Undeniably, Ling Momo had initially barged into the "Imperial Palace" to push Enson down, stayed by his side as a teacher, pretending to hate yet trying to please—a series of firsts, all for Lu Niange.
This was also a thorn in Li Qingshen's heart.
Suddenly, Li Qingshen became almost furiously embarrassed.
He tilted his head slightly, looking at the second floor of the villa, at Ling Momo's bedroom, where the curtains tightly shut, faint traces of light from a sleep lamp peeking through. His hands involuntarily clenched, the words Lu Niange had spoken today, in his eyes, had entirely become a provocation.
