"Ximin, no matter what you look like—even if you had a green face and fangs—you'd still be you, and my feelings wouldn't change." Cui Xiong had finally calmed down after his outburst. He clasped Miao Ne's hands, his eyes still damp. With that earnest look, he really did seem sincere.
Miao Ne wasn't used to such bluntness.
Suppressing the urge to recoil as goose bumps rose all over her, Miao Ne tried to pull her hands free. But before she could put any strength into it, she felt warm, wet liquid in Cui Xiong's palms. She didn't know if it was tears or sweat. She stopped at once and turned her head with a helpless sigh.
She comforted herself: I'll let him hold my hands. It'll make him feel better.
She had no idea who Cui Xiong took after. He was crying in public without the slightest shame. Cui Zhi, that fox who had practically become a spirit, didn't seem likely; and there was even less chance it was Cui Hui, the bold and decisive woman. After thinking it over, she concluded that Cui Xiong was like neither of them. He was simply hopeless.
Miao Ne said, "Should I be touched and say something?"
Cui Xiong pouted. "Anything you like."
He'd thought accompanying Miao Ne to Yuanfu Prefecture might lead to some real progress. But plans never kept pace with change. He hadn't achieved his goal and had embarrassed himself in front of Miao Ne. He'd wanted to try again, but his father refused, hauling him back to the southwest and calling him a disgrace.
Cui Xiong flushed with anger.
[Is Father trying to beat the lovebirds apart?]
He looked ready to flip the table if Cui Zhi got in his way.
He knew he was nothing like Cui Zhi.