When Shang Ruoyao slapped down the divorce papers, Mao Yucheng was still sneering. “If you leave, don’t come crawling back.”
Three years later, at a Paris haute couture show, the camera flashes trained on the rising international designer made his eyes sting.
What’s the point of getting jealous and grabbing her by the waist?
He could keep watch outside her studio all night in twenty-below weather, dare to throw a billion-yuan project at her as a betrothal gift, and even... clutch a critical-condition notice and beg her to spare him a glance.
“Shang Shang, I’ll give you my life.”
But the woman whose pride he had once crushed was now idly turning her engagement ring. “Mr. Mao, my fiancé might get jealous.”
When the secret Shang Ruoyao had hidden for five years finally came to light, Mao Yucheng at last knelt, his pride shattered on the floor.
“Please, teach me how to love someone again.”
It's a bit messy. I can't tell the difference between reality and memories. I recall it anytime and anywhere. It sounds messy. I've never seen someone write like this.
The whole plot is written about rain. Is it impossible to describe it without rain?!