Until noon, the person delivering flowers hadn't shown up.
A colleague asked Xie Xin, "Why haven't you received flowers today? Did that person forget?"
Xie Xin smiled slightly and said nothing.
She thought, maybe he did forget.
During lunch, she had no appetite.
In the restroom, she picked up her phone, checked the number she had viewed countless times, but ultimately didn't dial.
Men's love and women's love, there's a bit of difference, isn't there?
But Xie Xin didn't know exactly what that difference was.
She had never experienced love, never loved anyone, how would she know?
Moreover, she already knew what kind of person Han Shaojing was.
His reputation as a playboy preceded him; someone accustomed to romantic escapades—perhaps, to him, she was just a fleeting novelty.
Her rejection had piqued his interest, so he pursued her with bouquets and verses, melting her defenses, and now that she had softened, he'd lost interest.
