Chapter 89: Qiao Zhen Is the Bravest Princess

Maybe the tears carried away Qiao Zhen’s shyness and fear. She almost shouted the four words that had been stored in her heart for so long.

Like a bottle of cola shaken again and again, if she did not confess now, she would truly explode.

The lounge fell silent.

Qiao Zhen suddenly regretted it.

The confession she had imagined should have been romantic: she would be wearing a beautiful dress, with flawless makeup, speaking her feelings with bashful restraint.

A gentle breeze would stir her hair, lovely flowers would surround her, and everything would be dreamy and idyllic.

Not this.

Right now she was drenched in tears, looking surely miserable, and clinging to Qin Yichi like a madwoman.

At the thought of it, Qiao Zhen cried even harder.

And the words she had prepared all night were gone too. Stars, moonlight, the sea, snowflakes—everything had been exquisite and poetic.

But now her mind was a blank. The confession she had memorized so well had vanished without a trace.

All she could do was repeat, again and again, that she liked him, that she liked Qin Yichi, that she really, really liked him...

Qin Yichi stood frozen in place, as though a thunderclap had exploded beside his ear, his thoughts instantly going rigid.

His soul, at this moment, was utterly shaken, burning hot through and through, unable to respond for a long while.

He did not know how much time passed before he slowly heard his own voice: “Qiao Zhen, I—”

Qiao Zhen immediately covered his mouth with her hand, her face streaked with tears. “No, no, you can’t. Be quiet. I haven’t finished.”

Qiao Zhen hurriedly pulled open her backpack and took out a motorcycle helmet built from plastic blocks.

Red and black, large, as big as a proper racing helmet, even bearing the letters QYC.

She had spent a very, very, very long time putting it together.

Summoning all her courage, Qiao Zhen said, “This is my confession gift to you, to celebrate your race going smoothly!”

Under the slightly dim light, Qin Yichi looked down at her. In his dark, profound eyes, an unusual brilliance rippled.

His throat bobbed. “Qiao—”

But before he could finish, Qiao Zhen once again quickly covered his mouth, raising her voice:

“Don’t rush, I still have more!”

Perhaps because she was too nervous and panicked, even her hands were trembling now, and her voice would not stop shaking.

Wiping away her tears, Qiao Zhen took out her treasures from the backpack:

A fountain pen, a black obsidian bracelet, and a medal of honor.

Qin Yichi opened his mouth, and Qiao Zhen covered it again, and again:

“Wait, just wait, this is the last one!”

Qiao Zhen pulled out a pink love letter, her fingers shaking as she pressed it into Qin Yichi’s hand, her little face so tense it was nearly red.

The girl’s eyes were sparkling, filled with a brilliant galaxy, as though she were offering up her whole heart:

“Qin Yichi, I—”

But this time Qin Yichi interrupted her, pressing her head into his chest and holding her tightly as he said, both resentful and indulgent:

“Qiao Zhen, stop stealing my lines.”

At his words, Qiao Zhen froze in his arms. She stayed there obediently, so aggrieved that she said no more.

God knew how nervous and afraid she was right now, afraid that Qin Yichi would not accept her, afraid that her feelings would go unanswered.

Her heart was almost about to burst.

Qin Yichi held her tightly, his throat moving up and down. His eyes, too, seemed a little hot, and in his gaze there appeared to burn a fierce flame, sincere and fervent:

“I like you.”

Longer than you have liked me. Much longer.

“Qiao Zhen, today was a confession I had planned for a very long time, on a romantic mountain.”

He had so many gifts for Qiao Zhen, and the most romantic, the most ardent confession.

“I originally meant to reveal it there, but I never expected that you would say those four words before I did.”

He had not expected Qiao Zhen to suddenly faint, to cry so hard;

He had even less expected that his princess would be braver than he was.