In the private room she had just left, a man held a white handkerchief up before his eyes. His fingers curled around it slowly, clenching it into a tight fist. On the middle finger of his right hand, a delicate silver-white ring shone dazzlingly in the warm, dim light.
…
「A few days later, on June 14th.」
Yuan Zhao, it seemed, had finally worked up the courage to send her a message, asking about the dinner she had promised him.
She replied, "No hurry. I've been busy with post-production the last couple of days."
Yuan Zhao replied with an "Oh," followed by a pitiful-looking sticker.
Shen Lang glanced at it, then set her phone aside and ignored him.
After sending the sticker, however, Yuan Zhao stiffened. '…This is the first time I've ever been this sappy.'
He rarely chatted on WeChat unless it was a work matter that couldn't be discussed in person. For someone who hardly used the app for conversation, sending such a sappy, cutesy sticker was unheard of.
