The corners of the man's beautiful eyes visibly twitched.
He had always been proud, yet Lu Xiaoyou had trained him to bow his head to her again and again.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out, because asking for forgiveness had never been something Long Xiliang was good at.
The man's other hand lifted her chin, and Lu Xiaoyou turned her head away, not wanting him to touch her.
Long Xiliang lowered his head, a wave of defeat washing over him.
"Will you forgive me?" He lowered his voice. "Forgive me for being completely powerless when you were hurt."
He narrated these words in a calm, low tone, as if he were simply telling Lu Xiaoyou some story from the past. Yet no matter how heart‑rending those stories once were, when spoken aloud now, they sounded as plain and tasteless as a glass of boiled water…
He had once held her icy-cold body in his arms, sitting on the operating table.
