Ye Feimo stood alone at the bedroom door for nearly two hours. It was already past midnight, and he was without a hint of sleepiness. Wen Nuan lay in bed alone, tossing and turning, unable to sleep well.
She was used to his embrace, used to his scent; without him, the empty bed became a form of torture. Wen Nuan tried hard to forget the influence Ye Feimo had on her, but her efforts were in vain.
After taking a bath, her mood had improved a lot. Wen Nuan didn't want to cling onto Ye Feimo's past, as she knew that Ye Feimo loved her; that alone should have been enough for her.
For a man like Ye Feimo to deeply love a woman was already rare; what more could you ask of him?
But just thinking this way made Wen Nuan feel stifled again. She was talented, beautiful, and wealthy; there were plenty who admired her. Why should she endure such treatment merely because she loved Ye Feimo? Was she supposed to muffle her feelings?
The thought alone left her feeling indignant.
