Translator: Mandarin

TLC: Juzi, Lonering

Sorrow (2nd edit)

Ye Chen didn’t feel even the least bit guilty and ate that one lunchbox with relish until he was very full and very satisfied. It had been a very long time for him since he’d last had such delicious home-cooking.

How long had it been?

So long he couldn’t even remember.

This one afternoon, nobody could tell how Ye Chen was feeling. His handsome face was so cold, it could freeze water. If Ye Chen was normally gracefully cold, then today’s Ye Chen was gloomy and ice cold.

Cheng Anya had been scolded by him several times for no reason. In the secretary office, the atmosphere was cold as if it was in the middle of winter. Everyone felt in danger of being called in and admonished until they were released.

Ye Chen was very fidgety, Cheng Anya saw when she was allowed to leave.

When it was almost time for her to get off work, Ye Chen had Cheng Anya make him a cup of coffee. When she went in to deliver it to him, Ye Chen had stopped in front of the French window. With a slender and tall stature, he possessed a threateningly powerful pressure.

It was already dusk, and the setting sun’s rays were warm, giving the entire office a similarly warm atmosphere.

Cheng Anya gently set down the coffee, with a light cough.

“Miss Cheng, show me my plans for tonight.” Ye Sanshao said, not turning around. His voice was a bit gloomy and hoarse. With the afterglow of the sun filling the entire Chairman’s Office, this kind of voice seemed downcast and sad.


Slowly leaving the Chairman’s office, when she was about to close the door, Cheng Anya couldn’t help but to glance at him again.

This man had a formidable charisma that always attracted people’s gazes. His grace, his coldness, his ruthlessness. . . .

He had all the qualities of a lady killer.

For her, Ye Sanshao had always seemed formidable. Formidable to the extent that he seemed almost omnipotent.

But today, Ye Sanshao seemed to be pervaded by a sorrow mixed with a heartbroken longing. He seemed to be thinking of someone he cherished. It was as if the warm evening had nothing to do with him.

It completely didn’t match his longing and sadness.

Cheng Anya’s heart ached slightly. The more powerful someone is, the more they had to conceal their weaknesses. They couldn’t cry or show their fragility. In fact, for these kinds of people, their hearts were blocked off. . . .

There, compared to anyone else, they were weak and soft.

Fuck, this kind of lighting, this particular man, and this view of his back. . . . Damn, it was like something from a drama with the setting of a male lead filled with sadness.

Ye Sanshao, you switched to walking on the road of grief?

That really is. . . .

Too perfect!

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