Mia held the glass railing with both hands, her eyes dazedly watching the newborn morning light, and said softly, "The god I worship tells me that a woman can only have one man in her lifetime."
Chi Xiaoyu didn't understand before.
But now she understands. She doesn't worship any god, but there is only one man in her heart.
Sometimes, love is also a kind of belief.
"Were you by his side when he died?"
Mia turned her head to look at Chi Xiaoyu, her voice low and hoarse. The "he" she spoke of was Yeh Yu.
She was finally willing to face him, and Chi Xiaoyu breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yes, for... a while, I went to visit him!"
"Did he... uh, mention me?" Mia's eyes were filled with anxiety and expectation, gingerly unravelling her past.
In the face of love, there is a strange rule: no matter how noble your status, as long as you are passive, you are humble.
Moreover, the deeper you love, the more humble you are, and the less you get, the more unwilling you are to give up.
