"Love is inherently unequal. How could I give it to her and give it to you again? It's unfair to you and even more unfair to her. How guilty will I feel when I face her relatives and her tombstone in the years to come?" Xu Lingjun's usually cold voice revealed a subtle tremor.
Song Pingsheng raised her head and looked at the handsome man who had guided her through the best three years of her life. She even changed her title and said stubbornly: "Mr. Xu, this is not a reason. What you have left for her is just remembrance of her. How can you feel guilty? Even if you have, it can't stop me from loving you at all. I don't believe it. You have no feelings for me at all. Are the kindness and gentleness you have shown me in these three years of being together day and night all fake?"
Xu Lingjun looked at Song Pingsheng, her fair face turned slightly red due to excitement, and her eyes were determined, just like when he met her on the street in France three years ago. He was stunned, and then took a few steps back. His tall body was covered by darkness, and his expression became vague and unreal.
Song Pingsheng watched him retreat, and his heart gradually began to sink. As soon as his feet unconsciously moved in his direction, they were severely stopped by Xu Lingjun's cold words.
"There is a reason. She is dead, but you are not." Every word was like needles piercing her chest, causing her endless pain.
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