A sharp pain suddenly stabbed in her chest, her fingertips pinching into the palm of her hand, digging into the flesh without her knowing.
But she quickly controlled her emotions, keeping herself from losing control, her gaze indifferently shifting elsewhere.
Fu Lingfeng didn't look away; he kept staring at her, noticing her pale complexion, which somewhat weighed heavy on his heart.
He had indeed considered marrying her seriously. Gu Nanqiao was right—he had wronged her and couldn't wrong another person.
After the divorce, he gradually came to terms with some things. He was twenty-seven years old, not young anymore; he couldn't always live for himself. Some responsibilities had to be shouldered.
Suddenly aware of someone watching him, Fu Lingfeng withdrew his gaze, following that look to its source.
It was, in fact, Gu Nanqiao.
