In the bathroom, Xi Siyan could only see a vague outline of the person outside through the frosted glass, not her clearly, yet his eyes were filled with a tenderness he only ever had for Zhou Chengchen.
Maybe he had never said it, and maybe with his personality he would never say it, but the girl outside—the one whose smile shone like the blazing sun, whose eyes lit up when she smiled—was the person he held at the tip of his heart.
Was that feeling love?
Xi Siyan had no experience; he had never liked anyone before.
But he knew very clearly that, for someone who had always lived only in his own world, before he met her he had never had this kind of hope—the hope that someone might walk into his dim, chaotic, and lonely world.
Toward his biological father, toward Zhang Yi, toward the Li Family, Xi Siyan had always felt that he didn't hate them, but in the end there was still a bit of resentment, wasn't there?
