The only difference was that back then, he still had a waterfall-like ink-black hair.
At this moment, suddenly remembering, the scene became even clearer.
It was a deep night; she returned home late due to playfulness, so she sneaked through the back door. Just outside their back door in that secluded alley, under the shallow moonlight, a man as beautiful as a demon in a painting approached.
Perhaps because the man was too good-looking, little Xiaoqi stared blankly, deliberately stealing a few more glances at him, or perhaps that night he seemed too despondent and in pain, so when Xiaoqi looked at him, he met her gaze.
In that single glance, Xiaoqi saw heart-wrenching despair and pain in his eyes.
His eyes were telling a story, why, why did you still abandon me? I could give up everything for you, how could you, how could you still marry someone else.
A Jing, why.
