He Was That Teenager That Saved Her That Year? (2)

Mu Sihan opened his tightly-clenched fists. His palm was facing up as he stretched his fingers out in front of Nan Zhi.

Nan Zhi looked down at his large palm.

A white and exquisite shirt button lay there, quiet and unassuming.

It was a button whose design, pattern and size Nan Zhi had seen for about nine years.

She was very familiar with it.

It was her lucky button.

How?

Nan Zhi wanted to take the button instinctively. However, the man clenched his hand into a fist before she could react.

He did not let her take another look.

No. The button he was holding did not have the smiley face she had drawn on it.

But why was it exactly the same?

Nan Zhi's brain was a mess…

Why?