At this moment, Wang Shaojun was called away again by several elders to continue making the rounds with wine.
Wei He had not expected Wan Qingqing to be so proactive.
In truth, he felt only pure respect and closeness toward her. There was no love, only esteem.
But at this moment, as he held her hand, it seemed her feelings for him were not quite so pure.
Wan Qingqing gripped his hand tightly, her body somewhat tense and stiff.
She seemed afraid—afraid that before so many people, Wei He would pull his hand from hers.
For a moment, countless thoughts and images flashed through Wei He's mind.
But in the end, he smiled.
Then he clasped her hand firmly in return.
Wan Qingqing sensed it. Her body trembled, and she raised her head slightly, meeting Wei He's calm gaze.
Their eyes met for an instant. The tension and unease in her heart gradually melted away, replaced by silent understanding.
From Wei He's actions and his eyes, she had already seen his answer.
Wei He still held no romantic love for Wan Qingqing, but that was in keeping with the detachment he had always possessed.
Feelings could be cultivated. He respected Wan Qingqing and did not dislike her; that was enough.
Because that was the premise for getting along, and also the premise for nurturing feelings.
He did not believe in love that came suddenly, like a raging storm.
What was too rigid was easily broken; when yang reached its extreme, yin was born. Such love was often accompanied by recklessness, by throwing caution to the wind, by blindness to the greater realities.
Once passion faded, the life two people shared was what truly formed the foundation of a lifetime together. That was how they would spend most of their days.