Jiang Yino cried.
The moment Qin Fan finished speaking, she suddenly gripped his hand, their fingers interlocking tightly. Listening to his words, she could no longer control her impulses, unable to contain the overwhelming empathy that flooded her.
What kind of life must that have been?
She didn't dare to think about it, didn't dare to let her mind conjure those images. She knew Qin Fan wouldn't fabricate such a tale just to deceive her, but she had no idea how he had actually survived those years.
Fighting back the tears that blurred her vision, she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that was your story."
"Are you pitying me?" Qin Fan exhaled a nonchalant laugh. He raised their interlocked hands and looked at her. "I don't need pity, and I don't need sympathy. I certainly don't need some misplaced, overbearing maternal affection. Understand?"
