Zhang Tianyu reached out and gently stroked Zhu Zhuqing's long hair. He smiled but said nothing.
Many times, everything was understood without words.
Just like at this moment, language was pale. No words could compare to a genuine action.
A little head-patting would not scare her. An intimate gesture would quickly warm the feelings between them, and it would also reduce the unease and confusion about the future in a girl's heart to the lowest point.
Zhu Zhuqing was a sensible girl. She knew her limits, so the question she had asked did not require Zhang Tianyu to answer anything, nor did it require Zhang Tianyu to make some choice between her and Xiao Wu. She knew that would be meaningless. How many years of feelings did they already have?
She only wanted to see Zhang Tianyu's reaction.
And Zhang Tianyu's reaction—her evaluation was that she was very satisfied.
She did not need Zhang Tianyu to choose her over Xiao Wu, because that was impossible.
She only wanted to have a place in Zhang Tianyu's heart. That would be enough.
Now she knew that this place existed, and therefore, she was satisfied.
From when had Zhang Tianyu begun to occupy every place in her heart?
She did not know. There had been no earth-shaking, heaven-moving emotion. How could feelings in real life be as sensational and romantic as the ones described in all sorts of biographies?
Most feelings in real life were silent infiltrations, like rain nourishing things without a sound, and were formed by all the little details of everyday life.
These things looked very small. Often, they were so small as to be insignificant. Yet it was precisely these insignificant things that would ultimately build a bridge between two people's hearts.
"It's getting late. Go back and sleep."