Gu Chaohan didn't say anything, picking up the bowl and spoon that had fallen on the blanket and placing them on the table beside him.
Afterwards, he found a clean blanket to replace the old one.
Su Yan's gaze slowly lowered, and when she saw the burn marks on the back of his hand, a sudden inexplicable discomfort welled up in her heart.
After a long pause, she lifted her eyes and stared fixedly at his face, "Gu Chaohan, do you really love me?"
The man's movement of changing the blanket paused slightly, "Yes."
Perhaps in her eyes, his forceful and domineering possession was not worthy of being called love, but he truly loved her, just in a radically extreme way.
Since childhood, he had believed in a creed: what he liked should be firmly held in his hand, even if it meant possessing it forcefully.
He wasn't a Saint, unable to commit to a grandly selfless release to give her freedom.
So he kept her by his side, even if she hated him.
