At fifteen, Sang Sui moved to Yunjing City with her mother and met Sheng Yize, the son of Aunt Lin. He was three years older, impossibly good-looking, but icy cold. Hiding behind her mother, she greeted him softly, “Hello, big brother.”

Years passed. Sheng Yize barely returned home while studying, and the next time Sang Sui saw him was at her university’s orientation—he was there with his girlfriend to pick her up. That was when she realized: she was never the kind of girl he would love.

She harbored a crush for four years, only to be trampled on.

One day, someone asked, “Master Sheng, what’s your deal with Sang Sui? The playboy’s finally settling down?”

Sheng Yize shrugged, indifferent. “Just having some fun. You took it seriously?”

Her face went pale.

Everyone said Sheng Yize was a notorious heartbreaker, untouchable, unreachable. Sang Sui realized how foolish she had been, daring to dream that a playboy could be tamed.

The day she decided to stop liking him, she deleted every trace of him and left the country to study abroad. At the airport, Sheng Yize rushed in too late—only to receive a single letter:

“Sheng Yize, I never liked you.”

Back then, Sang Sui thought playboys never change. She didn’t know that the man who held her letter in his arms had tears in his eyes.

For three years, Sheng Yize crossed oceans again and again to see her, burning with jealousy whenever she had a new boyfriend. He kept rewriting the words on that letter over and over:

“I’ve always liked you.”

Years later, Sang Sui accidentally opened their wedding photo frame—and out slipped a hidden letter.

Looking at the smudged edits on the page, her eyes filled with tears.

“Sui Sui, please, like me—just once.”