He always had a thorn in his heart.
Tong Ran looked him in the eye, word by word, exceptionally clear, "Mo Nanjue, if you don't trust me, then let's pretend this conversation never happened."
Mo Nanjue's eyebrows knitted together then relaxed, and after considerable thought, the elevator arrived at the first floor. He took her small hand and wrapped it in his, walking out, "Let's go back first. I'll have Steward Zhou arrange for someone to clean this up."
Tong Ran did not reply to his words, letting him lead her to the car. She lowered her gaze, but a wave of irrepressible disappointment rippled through her.
He, indeed, still didn't trust her.
Her suggestion about moving out wasn't just a whim but a direct exposition of the most sensitive issue between them.
But now, when it was her turn to confront the topic, he no longer wanted to.
Perhaps, he had never intended to address it in the first place.
