However, Gu Mingzong sat opposite him, his expression was not at all constrained, and his eyes were even very peaceful.

The carriage was quiet, the lights reflected the dusty ground and the old seats, reflecting pale light on the rows of metal armrests. Outside the window, the darkness and boundlessness, and on the plains further away, there were a few slight searchlights flashing in the night.

"But..." Fang Jin said hoarsely: "But if I regret it in the future..."

In fact, Fang Jin couldn't say why he regretted it. He has lived in the fear of losing his life at any time since he was a child. How to survive is a real problem when he opens his eyes every day. Those spring flowers and autumn moons, the sweetness and sentimentality of the first love are inseparable from him, which is simply incomprehensible.

But he is indeed a young child. At this age, it would be fake to say that he has no good expectations for the future.

Choosing to obey can indeed solve the current dilemma of life, but he vaguely knew that if he really agreed, he might be very regretful one day in the future.

"Yes, you're still young after all."

As Min Sect sighed almost inauspiciously, with a slight regret in his voice:

"So, if you regret it one day in the future, we can sit down and negotiate the transaction again... but there is only one chance. Fang Jin, take it seriously and use it until the day you really regret it."

Fang Jin was silent for a long time. Under the pale light, his face was not bloody, and his eyelashes fell on his nose and left a deep shadow.

"...I promise you," he finally said.

The sound seemed to have dissipated into the air as soon as it exited, and then it seemed to have turned into invisible chains, tying everything from the void to the deepest night.

Gu Mingzong stood up, then lowered his head and wrote a kiss on Fang Jin's eyebrows, and threw the book just now to him:

"I've given it to you."

It turned out to be a collection of Yeats' poems.

Gu Mingzong put one hand in his pants pocket and walked down the car strode. A bodyguard walked into the car, owed to Fang Jin, and said politely: "It's time to leave-please."

Fang Jin's fingernails were deeply trapped in his fingertips. After a moment, he stood up silently and walked off the bus parked alone on the platform with the bodyguard.

On the way back to Heidelberg that day, he opened the collection of poems, probably because he often read them, and directly opened the most worn page, which was Yeats' famous "ar".

His indifferent eyes went down one by one, and the page of the hardcover coated paper was smooth and smooth until there were slight fingerprints under the line of words in the middle, which should be the traces of the nails when reading:

syi’dhd;

hadasagifd

...

To win people’s hearts can only be achieved by winning, not gifts.

Fang Jin closed his eyes, closed the book and threw it aside.
Chapter completed!