If a person could be completely cold-blooded, wouldn't that be great? Cold-blooded people wouldn't have sympathy, wouldn't have any emotions; they could treat everyone like grass, looking down on others' tears and saying with disdain that they are all saints.
But Qian couldn't do it.
Yu Minglang silently watched her cry, big tears falling onto the carpet. As she cried, he wiped her tears; being able to cry is always a good thing.
After Qian had cried for a while, he held her on his lap, gently calming her, and said softly.
"You've already done what you could for them. Even though the bad guy's retribution now can't offset his actions, it's still a relief for those victims."
"I know I've tried my best, but I still can't hide the disappointment in my heart. Just now, for a moment, I didn't know who I was. I was wondering whether I was myself or that bad guy. It's much better now."
