Although Xiang Yimo had just said that Zhong Lingling's matter was none of his business, seeing him sweat profusely made her feel guilty, as if she still owed him an explanation.
Without a clear explanation, it felt as though a poison was accumulating in her heart, unable to dissipate and causing discomfort.
Zhong Lingling put away her book, stepped out of the study with her right foot, but then withdrew it.
She thought to herself, if he said that it had nothing to do with him, wouldn't it be weird for her to go and explain? Especially now?
For some reason, she had recently become so concerned about Xiang Yimo's feelings; his every action and expression seemed to affect her mood.
After much hesitation, Zhong Lingling finally made her way to the gym, as if possessed.
Xiang Yimo was still running hard, treating Zhong Lingling, who stood in front of the treadmill, as if she were just a puff of air, not even affording her a glance.