Chapter 92: Yan Yichen Felt Jealous

Corsi was amused by her adorable look. After a moment, his smile faded, and a deep flash of pain crossed his eyes.

“Only... I’ll never get to eat the meals my mother made again.”

Meng Yier froze slightly and asked instinctively, “Why?”

Seeing the sorrow in Corsi’s eyes, Meng Yier knew she had touched someone’s sore point and felt so regretful she wanted to bite off her own tongue.

Corsi lowered his gaze to the cup in his hand and stared at it for a long while, lost in thought. Meng Yier could not see the expression in his eyes.

“That...”

Meng Yier hesitated for a moment before speaking, but she did not know what else to say.

“My mother passed away many years ago.”

His deep, gentle voice was very soft, carrying a trace of grief.

A surge of self-reproach rose in Meng Yier’s heart. Her long lashes trembled faintly, and her soft voice became a little disordered.

“I’m sorry. I brought up... something painful for you.”

She had not expected it to be this way, and suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for the man before her, who seemed so perfect and flawless.

So he, like her, had also grown up without a mother’s love.

Corsi set down the cup in his hand, curled the corners of his lips, and gave a faint smile, though even that smile seemed steeped in sorrow too deep to dissolve.

“It’s all right. My mother was actually from Seaview City too. When I was fifteen, I came to this country with her. We lived here for six years, until an accident took her life. So this city means a great deal to me.”

When he said this, Corsi’s voice was very light and very calm, as though he were speaking of someone else’s life, but the sorrow in his eyes could not be concealed.

No one knew that after that accident, so many years had passed, and she still had never been able to move on from it.

Meng Yier pressed her lips together and looked into his green eyes with gentle comfort.

“Corsi, life is unpredictable. If your aunt were still alive, she would surely not want to see you grieving for her.”

Corsi nodded and returned her a smile. “You’re right. Let’s not talk about this.”

The dishes were already served. The two of them lowered their heads and ate in silence. Neither spoke again, save for the occasional faint clink of spoon and chopsticks against the plates.

On the other side, Yan Yichen’s brows were deeply furrowed, his dark eyes burning with irritation. His hand gripping the coffee cup looked ready to crush it to pieces.

That girl cared far too much about Corsi.

The more he thought about it, the more stifled he felt.

At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to rush over, lock her tightly in his arms, and proclaim to everyone that she was his woman, cutting off every fantasy other men might harbor.

Yet the last vestiges of reason told him he could not do that. It would only drive her into another man’s arms.

“I... Corsi, about that matter, I think I...”

Meng Yier smoothed the fine strands of hair falling over her forehead and looked into Corsi’s eyes as she began to speak.

Corsi suddenly stood, leaning forward to interrupt her half-finished words.

Meng Yier froze slightly, puzzled, as she looked at his handsome face suddenly so close to her own.

A slender hand drew nearer and nearer, until it finally came to rest at the corner of her lips, his fingers brushing lightly across them.

The warmth of his fingertips made Meng Yier go still. She stared wide-eyed at the faintly upturned corner of his mouth.

“Something’s there.”

His low, sensual voice sounded by her ear, carrying an alluring charm that could ensnare a heart.

“Mm.”

Meng Yier answered almost without thinking.

Corsi’s gaze was fixed intently on those vivid, dewy red lips. The soft touch sent a tremor through his heart, and a misty, unreadable glimmer flashed deep in his eyes.