Though she and Zhao Cheng had not exchanged a single word, she was no ordinary person. In that short span of time, she had already sketched a profile of Zhao Cheng in her mind.
Straitened, clear-headed, resolute, lost, lonely—habitually keeping his distance from the world and those around him, immersed in his own world.
His straitened circumstances came from her observations of Zhao Cheng's clothes. As for the rest, they were judgments she had made through his bearing and expression, through the sensations of her superpower.
There were quite a few people like that in this world.
In her judgment, Zhao Cheng was undoubtedly still at the low point of his life. Though he was struggling to climb out, there was still a long way to go before he truly emerged.
Without question, people at such a low point were the easiest to win over.
If someone were to stay by his side and encourage him, they could surely max out his favorability directly.
But reality was that people in such a stage of life often never encountered someone like that.
And by the time those years had passed, no one would be able to enter such a person's heart anymore.
It had to be said that so many things in this world were always this helpless—either the timing was wrong, or the person was wrong.
Still, those thoughts lasted only an instant before Li Qingmeng stopped dwelling on them.
She had subjectively decided that Zhao Cheng and she did not belong to the same world. Indeed, she had sensed this, but she had no reason to become that person.
They were neither family nor friends; her kindness did not stretch that far.
In the blink of an eye, she cast the matter to the back of her mind.