Disappointment flooded Fu Han's heart like a tidal wave as she remembered Bai Wei, her head buried in her knees, crying. Her thin shoulders twitched up and down, looking so pitiful.
She felt it was so undeserved on Bai Wei's part, where anger raged in her for this man before her who didn't know his own heart. With a tone steeped in sarcasm she said, "So that also means you don't even know whether you like Bai Wei or not, huh?"
"I..." Luo Qinghe started with difficulty, struggling to say, "I'm happy when I'm with Bai Wei, but I don't like it when she deliberately tries to please me, I..."
"Alright, you don't have to say more." The fury in Fu Han's heart finally could no longer be contained, and she stood up abruptly, looking down on Luo Qinghe from above: "Before, I thought you were a person with clear affections and hatreds. I thought you were, just like Wang Yixuan, a free-spirited artist. Now it seems I was wrong."