Lin Luoxue's smile was somewhat unnatural. She had enjoyed the feeling while doing it, but laying it all out in the open took away its beauty.
"You really are blunt."
"Have I not always been like this? I've always said whatever was on my mind."
Lin Luoxue said, "I thought you'd definitely be heartbroken after Gu Yixin left."
"Habitual thinking does people harm, my good classmate. You all think that because my parents died early and I'm alone, I must be devastated over matters involving love, unable to recover for a long time. But was that my first relationship? Had I never liked another girl before?
Feelings grow as bland as water when they last too long. Once you've had enough relationships, you become numb. I already told you—no one is indispensable. No matter how passionate love is, it isn't a necessity. I thought you understood that."
Wang Yan leisurely exhaled smoke and drank his tea, relaxed and comfortable, looking just as he always had.
"Yes, I should understand." Lin Luoxue let out a long breath, then looked at Wang Yan reproachfully. "You're so heartless. Fine, you're not sad, but you had to use me as an example too. If I didn't know you meant nothing else by it, I might have burst into tears."
"Go ahead and cry. I'll take the opportunity to dote on you, and the two of us can deepen our feelings a little more."
But before Lin Luoxue could say anything else, Wang Yan had already stood up and gone over to take pictures.
The hardest part of portrait photography was not the shooting itself—the three basic elements of light and shadow, composition, and exposure. The real difficulty lay in guiding the subject, drawing out their emotions. And the expression of those emotions often came