A bitter smile lingered on his handsome face. He finally understood her ambiguity and the infatuation he occasionally saw in her thoughtful moments. Because she was Tong Yixuan, the woman who once loved him deeply, his wife. This realization brought him joy—she belonged only to him.
However, memories of how he had once hurt her filled him with fear. His actions drove her to a foreign land, forcing her to hide her identity just to find peace away from him.
She didn’t need him. She no longer loved him…
This thought echoed in his heart, striking him with fear and unease.
In fact, from the moment she saw him again, she should have rejected him. Eight years ago, when she chose to hide her identity, she had already given up on him and no longer loved him. But he had fallen deeply in love with her, so much so that he was beyond control, unwavering in the face of her cold resistance.
“Xuan Xuan, come to England with me. You can be a witness and gather evidence abroad. From now on, brother will protect you,” Tong Yifeng’s voice stunned Di Xihuang. Despair filled his eyes.
Brother. This term shattered all the love and hate tangled in her mind. Tong Yifeng was her brother; they shared the same blood. He wanted to deny it, but it was impossible to cross the divide between them.
“Brother, let me talk to him,” Ou Xueman finally raised her head, knowing it was time to end things.
“But…” Tong Yifeng was worried.
“It’s okay, brother. I’m not the same as I was eight years ago,” she said resolutely.
Tong Yifeng nodded, pulling the bewildered Chen Zhensheng out of the hospital room, leaving them a private space.
He looked at her. From his dim eyes, she saw painful despair, leaving her unsure how to speak.
“Do you hate me?”
His voice, laden with guilt and regret, broke their silence.
Hate? She had asked herself countless times, but searching her heart, she couldn’t find a trace of it. She had to admit she didn’t hate him. The harm he caused was enough to justify a lifetime of hatred, yet she truly felt none.
