A door between them.
Chu Xinian's raised hand paused halfway, listening to the faint BGM coming from the room, and didn't knock.
His thin lips curved into a shallow arc.
He stood silently at the door for a moment and then turned to return to Qin Yiren's room.
He turned on the floor lamp, the warm light illuminating the princess-style furniture in the room, which looked cozy and cute, easily reminding one of the soft-hearted little woman.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Chu Xinian instinctively pulled out a cigarette, then realized he was in Qin Yiren's room and smoking would leave a tobacco scent on the furniture.
His slender fingers played with the cigarette but didn't light it.
Chu Xinian's long figure sat elegantly in the shadows where the lamp couldn't reach, carefully savoring every word the psychologist had said.
Between him and Qin Yiren, there are countless memories.
But the most vivid memory...
