Beg Me to Remarry
Chapter 611 - 612: Crystal Clear

Chapter 611: Chapter 612: Crystal Clear

Lady Nangong gave Nan Qing a meaningful look, the corner of her eye drifting to Fu Han.

When their eyes met, Fu Han’s face reddened, and she guiltily looked away, still unaccustomed to aiding Nan Qing in deceiving their parents.

Lady Nangong’s benevolent laughter rang out, surprisingly agreeing to Nan Qing’s request quite readily.

Unintentionally, Fu Han caught a glimpse of Wang Yixuan’s expression, which she saw change distinctly—shock mingled with emotion.

This discovery pleased Fu Han; although Wang Yixuan said nothing, his expression now more than clearly disclosed one thing—he liked Nan Qing.

As for the extent of his affection for Nan Qing, Fu Han couldn’t say; however, she believed that as long as Nan Qing didn’t give up, Wang Yixuan would surely grow fonder of her.

After all, Nan Qing was indeed a very likable girl—hadn’t Luo Qinghe harbored an unspoken love for her for years? Only Su Cheng, that blockhead, didn’t know how to cherish Nan Qing.

Reflecting on this, Fu Han let out a deep sigh; she had always felt that Nan Qing and Su Cheng were well-matched, with similar family backgrounds and being family friends since childhood, playing together as they grew up—they seemed destined for each other.

Unfortunately, Su Cheng acted as if he were in a dead end, dead set on crashing against the tree that was Fu Han.

Fu Han had also believed Su Cheng was very fond of her, but last year, during Christmas in M Country, she and Wang Yixuan heard a conversation between Su Cheng and Nan Qing outside a door. It was this conversation that led her to feel that Su Cheng’s disdain for Nan Qing, as expressed, was far from the truth; he actually cared about her much more than he let on.

It was just too bad that Fu Han discovered this too late—if only she had realized sooner, perhaps she would have tried every means to bring them together.

But by last Christmas, Nan Qing and Wang Yixuan had already confirmed their romantic relationship.

Love was always a matter of choice; Nan Qing chose Wang Yixuan, and Wang Yixuan chose Nan Qing. They were mutually in love, something many longed for yet never found.

Fu Han was sincerely happy for Nan Qing. Although she agreed with Lady Nangong that marriage should be based on a deep understanding, she believed dating was fine too; the longer they dated, the more they would naturally understand each other.

After leaving the hospital, Fu Han took several deep breaths of the outside air—this past year, she had visited the hospital more often than in the previous decades combined. She truly hoped she wouldn’t have to go again.

On the way back to the He Family villa, Fu Han, sitting in the passenger seat, mused over the entangled grievances of their group, and, lost in thought, couldn’t help but laugh.

Earth was a circle, and they were all within it, constantly revolving, their circle always comprising the same people, yet it was unknown what the outcome would be for this set of people.

Compared to the emptiness of the previous days, today’s streets were bustling with more vehicles, and the sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians; most of the shops had opened.

Though it couldn’t compare with normal times, A City had "come to life" again, like a spring breeze reviving the earth, with tender green shoots sprouting and bringing vibrant vitality.

As He Xing drove, he watched Fu Han out of the corner of his eye, and just looking at her quietly, his heart melted.

He drove with one hand on the steering wheel, freeing the other to gently ruffle Fu Han’s hair.

Her hair was soft, silky like satin, long and lush, and when sunlight shone upon it, it gleamed like a piece of black jade.

In his memory, Fu Han never dyed her hair, only occasionally permed it, but not much—most of the time, her hair was long, black, and straight, falling to her waist.

He was about to speak when his phone suddenly rang. He took it out, glanced at it, and then hung up directly.

Fu Han, ever polite, turned her head away instead of looking at He Xing’s phone screen. Noticing he didn’t take the call, her curiosity got the better of her, "Who was calling? Why didn’t you answer it?"

He Xing’s expression changed subtly, his heartbeat briefly erratic, but then he spoke with an even tone, "It was a call from Xia Ning. I thought it wasn’t anything urgent, so I just hung up."

His words were half-true; the call was indeed from Xia Ning, but contrary to what He Xing stated, she did need his assistance—only He Xing was neither willing nor inclined to help, so he simply hung up.

"Oh, I see," Fu Han smiled, her smile as warm and comforting as the sun above, orange-tinted, bringing exceptional warmth: "If it really isn’t important, then don’t answer it. I don’t want Xia Ning to interfere every time I’m with you."

"That won’t happen..." He Xing coughed awkwardly, his face flushed with embarrassment: "Xiaohan, I’ve indeed made you suffer before, but I promise it will never happen again."

Right as He Xing spoke, they reached a red light where he stopped the car smoothly. He gently caressed Fu Han’s cheek with his free hand, his movements as delicate as if he were handling a rare treasure.

Fu Han leaned forward briefly, planting a kiss on He Xing’s cheek like a dragonfly touching water, then promptly settled back in her seat: "I know, I trust you."

She uttered just seven words, but to He Xing, they were more enchanting than any sweet nothings in the world.

He Xing remained silent, gazing deeply at Fu Han, as if engraving this very moment of her deep within his mind.

Sunlight streamed through the car window, casting a golden glow on them; coupled with their flawless features, the scene was as perfect as any masterfully crafted artwork.

The light turned green, He Xing caressed Fu Han’s head once more, then accelerated the car away.

Pale yellow leaves lifted by the wheels fluttered in the chilly wind, dancing like butterflies—everything was beautiful, beautifully just right.

Coincidentally, there was a Photographer nearby scouting for a scene and captured the moment He Xing touched Fu Han’s head, along with the fluttering leaves.

The wind turned gentle, lacking the previous sharp chill when it brushed against the face. Occasionally, one could spot tender green shoots breaking through the crevices of stones; the evergreens on the roadside were a touch greener than before—spring had arrived.