At such a moment, what else could you do but hold her close, gently pat the back of the newly widowed woman's fragrant shoulders, offering her the wide, solid expanse of your chest as her support and comfort?
Liu Zhizhong felt he couldn't do anything else.
The oppressive might of "Iron Fist," the overwhelming force, left him struggling to breathe.
Should he ask her about Qin Bo's background?
Should he question her decision to marry Zheng Sanjing?
Wouldn't that be prodding at someone's wounds?
Wouldn't that be utterly unscrupulous?
Only silent companionship suited the moment; silence was more eloquent than words.
At least when you feel like crying, there's someone to lean on, to let you cry your heart out, to pass you tissues, and to never babble in front of you—never prattle on…
This is the mark of quality!
This is what it means to be a confidant?
It took a good while for Feng Xiaoyue to recover her composure.
