Ye Qingxian felt she had been far too unsettled lately.
Her thoughts weren't as rational as they used to be, either.
And her mind was often a mess, constantly filling with all sorts of scattered thoughts.
Could caring about Junior Sister just a little really have such a huge effect?
Ye Qingxian questioned herself again.
Perhaps it wasn't just a little?
Ye Qingxian hurriedly suppressed that bizarre thought.
Ached deep in her heart—more and more with every passing moment.
Yet every time the pain passed, all those stray thoughts vanished.
In an instant, her face went blank again, and she lamented that she seemed to be growing more and more deranged.
Ye Qingxian would never have imagined that—
Lately, she had been acting just like a little jealous bean who wanted to get jealous but couldn't find a reason, kept reassuring herself it was nothing, yet still couldn't put her mind at ease and wanted to secretly stir up trouble.
How deep were her feelings? How profound was her love?
Perhaps no external thing could prove it anymore.
Her feelings and love had long been hidden in her memories.
Love had never been something a single thread of feeling could prove.
A thread of feeling could sway someone's emotions, but it couldn't change their judgment or decisions.
Because the instinct to care for someone had long been engraved in memory.
Ye Xiaoyao had been wrong about one thing all along.
Ye Qingxian had never stopped loving her. Her affection for her had always been maxed out—and then some.
The so-called "thread of feeling" had always been laughable.
What could those two words even prove?
Could the fact that those flimsy words weren't present in her heart really overturn everything Ye Qingxian had done all this time?
Ask yourself honestly: could