I’m not SuSu
Bai Qian’s hand swept away the white veil from her eyes, restoring their eye contact.
He was powerless to stop himself, yet he never attempted to. He never even considered delaying or hesitating. He was overwhelmed by an urgent, desperate compulsion beyond his control. Without a word, tears streaming down his face, Ye Hua embraced the incredible vision of her, the one he had longed and prayed for through 157,680,000 minutes of agonizing separation.
He trembled, recognizing her instantly as his arms enveloped her soft, familiar body. Bai Qian’s body froze at his touch, but she didn’t push him off; her arms fell loosely to her sides.
Though she gave him some time, she quickly and gently pushed Ye Hua away. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes; her gaze remained cold, gloomy, and devoid of warmth or affection.
“My sincere apologies for causing you a sudden startle,” Bai Qian said, her voice calm and composed, barely a whisper that floated through the air. Her expression remained neutral, her eyes piercing, devoid of any emotion.
Ye Hua began to cry. This time, Bai Qian deliberately moved away when he reached for her again. She opened her Jade Purity Fan, using the fanning motion to create space between them.
In a strained attempt at tenderness, Bai Qian explained herself and her intentions, saying, “I know you still care for me, or have some lingering sentiments for SuSu, but you must understand, I’m not SuSu.”
Her acutely sharpened words inflicted a vicious, near-fatal injury: Their excruciating and torturous agony made Ye Hua flinch openly. His affliction and sorrow were impossible to hide. He saw her soft, expressive face, undeniably SuSu’s, but her eyes held a distinct chill, despite his piercing stare. Her guarded gaze was directed at an unfamiliar stranger, a complete stranger she was meeting for the first time.
The softness of her voice carried far as she whispered, “Take a seat and enjoy a glass of wine. We have much to talk about.”