After writing, Qiao Yongyong slipped the note under the ashtray, ready to leave the hotel.
She walked to the door, paused, slowly turned back, and her gaze landed on the sleeping face of Nie Yixiao.
This might truly be the last time she sees him.
Even if there is a chance to meet again in the future, he will resent her, seeing her as nothing but a stranger.
The man's sleeping profile was so exquisite, deep and serene like an ancient Greek sculpture, but ultimately, he did not belong to her.
She opened the door and gently closed it, her figure disappearing at the stairway's turn.
...
At dawn, the city's sky was half-bright and half-dark.
When Nie Yixiao woke up, the first thing he saw was the note left by Qiao Yongyong.
His expression changed, he flipped out of bed, quickly searched his coat for his phone, and sure enough, there were signs that it had been handled.
The note was not only a greeting but also a reminder for him.
