Jiang Nian took a somewhat absent-minded shower, only coming to his senses after drying his hair and lying on the bed.
What is Qianqian doing?
Crying? Probably not, maybe she's taking a shower right now.
Oh dear, I've visualized it, and now I'm even more restless and sleepless.
He tossed and turned on the bed, cursing himself for being such a pervert. But on second thought, after so many years, there's probably just a faint sadness left.
Being overly concerned might seem like picking at old wounds.
Honestly, when someone is just a little upset and wants to be left alone, and you say in low emotional intelligence, "It'll all pass," it's like, bam, you've just made them cry.
Alright, alright, the kitchen water is boiling, time to turn it off.
Wrapped in layers of uncertainty.
Thinking back and forth, Jiang Nian felt he still needed to say something.
