It's just good or bad.
After hanging up, Ye Ranran dialed Fu Rong's number.
At that moment, Fu Rong was already on the plane, heading back to handle some matters.
Without power, he had lost some opportunities, so he couldn't let anything go.
He needed to hold everything that belonged to him in his grasp.
Seeing that familiar yet strange number, Fu Rong answered.
Ye Ranran stood on the balcony, looking down from above: "I suppose you're on your way back now."
A low chuckle came from the other end, carrying an undeniable warmth within the usual cold tone: "Xiao Cai, you've always understood me the best."
"Fu Rong, is there really a need for this? Wen Cai has long been dead." Was this truth really so cruel? Cruel to the point that he didn't want to wake up, preferring to live in the beautiful dream he wove himself.
But then, why did he have to be so cruel to her before?
To put it bluntly, all of this was his own doing; yes, he brought this upon himself.
