"Go on."
Yan Xiaye's slender eyelashes drooped, masking the unmistakable fear and dread in her pupils.
Even now, several months after that incident, it remained a nightmarish memory she desperately wanted to avoid.
Her hand involuntarily clenched Little Yunduo's soft one, slight perspiration seeping from her palm as she took a deep breath and muttered to herself: "It wasn't an accident... believe it or not, it's up to you."
Li Beicheng's gaze was complex as he looked at her, his voice low and seemingly tender: "Yan Xiaye, is it that I don't trust you, or that you don't trust me?"
Yan Xiaye responded with an indifferent look, an expressionless face that seemed to say she was beyond consolation.
Of course... she didn't trust him.
After enduring so many betrayals and hurts, standing here and talking to him was already her limit, it was impossible for anything to develop according to his wishes.
