"And what else?" Han Qiaoqi asked curiously.
"And if you truly want to harm me, I'd willingly accept it too."
Chen Youming gazed at her, his eyes earnest to the point of stubbornness, each word spoken with a resounding clarity.
Such straightforward and fiery words made Han Qiaoqi's cheeks instantly burn, even her earlobes tinged with red.
In a fluster, she lowered her head, her fingertips twisting at the edge of her clothes, her toes unconsciously scuffing the dirt on the ground, murmuring softly, "What are you talking about, so improper."
Chen Youming took a deep breath, as if mustering all the courage he had accumulated in his life, stepped forward slowly, the distance between them abruptly shortened. His intense gaze fell upon her lowered brows: "Han Qiaoqi, I like you, have liked you for a very long time."
"Ah? Uh…"
