He was clearly tense about her safety.
But for some reason, he refused to show it and even kept his distance.
He lowered his dense eyelashes, a trace of coldness on the corner of his lips: "I remember reading a fable when I was a child, about a mosquito and a rhino crossing a river."
Chu Xinyue didn't understand why he was interested in telling a story at this moment, but she perked up her ears, pretending to listen attentively.
"The mosquito and the rhino crossed the river together. The mosquito didn't want to fly and lay on the rhino's back. The rhino swam to the shore, and the mosquito boasted of its cleverness, saying proudly: I crossed without any effort, while you carried me for half a day. The rhino said slowly: When you lay on my back, I didn't feel anything. When you left, I didn't notice. You're not as important as you think; whether you stay or leave, there's no need to tell me."
