Seeing the frozen expression on Feng Zhe's face, with a hint of restrained anger in his eyes, Lu Jingjing said coldly, "Feng Zhe, my patience has limits, you'd better not push me."
At this moment, Lu Jingjing wished she could just shoot Feng Zhe, so that no one would ever remind her of that humiliating night.
That night, before waking from the dream, despite the soreness all over her body, Lu Jingjing felt it was the happiest day in her thirty years.
But when dawn broke, the dream shattered.
Everything beautiful she yearned for turned into an illusionary bubble with Feng Zhe's appearance.
These days, Lu Jingjing had thought more than once, if someone else had appeared in the room, would she feel a bit better?
Lu Jingjing didn't know.
But Feng Zhe's shamelessness and calculated moves have driven Lu Jingjing to this day.
Lu Jingjing felt that a dead heart was far more terrifying than a calm heart.
It was Feng Zhe who forced her into a corner.
