Why Miao Wu committed suicide was unknown to anyone, but the fact that Miao Wu was dead was undisputable.
Di Jinxuan’s eyes darkened as she fell into deep thought.
Actually, she had thought about asking this question, but the two times she had indirectly tried to ask Nangong Jin, he had never directly answered.
It was then that she suddenly didn’t want to ask anymore because Di Xiaxia had said, "Does it matter what kind of person he was in the past? I think what you should care about is whether he is the person you want him to be after he’s with you."
She had to admit that this statement made her heart flutter and struck a chord with her.
In fact, she knew roughly what kind of person he was when he came close to her: promiscuous, unbridled, indifferent to everything, shamelessly thick-skinned.
He also had a dark career and a simple, confusing past—all of which she knew, didn’t she?
She could investigate, but would the results of the investigation stop her heart from fluttering?
Di Jinxuan felt somewhat lost, but she understood very clearly that she didn’t want to delve into his past anymore. If he spoke of it, she would listen.
If he didn’t speak, she wouldn’t ask either.
Because what mattered wasn’t his past, it was what he would be like in the future, and what he was like with her.
What he seemed like in the eyes of others didn’t matter to her.
In her eyes, it was actually quite simple; everyone has their own way of dealing with love.
A man who stays by your side, treats you well, can’t be driven away, scolded away, or kicked out—she didn’t know what others felt, but she knew she was touched.
Life is long and lonely, but if a grown man willingly takes your scolding like a child, bears any sudden slap from you, and afterward can still make you laugh and brighten your mood,
she thought perhaps no woman would reject such a man, especially when this man was not weak.

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