Looking down for a while, Qin Yiren silently folded the letter, placed it back into the envelope as it was, and placed it on the left-hand side of the bookshelf.
In a sense, it seemed like something that didn't belong to her; she didn't want to take it away.
She stepped back to the bed in her slippers, flopped down on the big bed, wrapped herself tightly in the quilt, tossing and turning as she thought about Chu Xinian depicted in the painting.
It was apparent that another her had probably hired a painting teacher and had meticulously studied painting.
Who knows if it's the lens of love or something else, but the man in the painting looking back with a gentle smile, with deep affection in his eyes and brows, is different from the Chu Xinian she knew...
He seemed somewhat different, yet maybe he's meant to be like this.
"Ah—"
