Chen Zhuo’s patience had worn thin. “What did I ever say to you?” he demanded, his eyes fixed on her. “Promise you? Sleep with you? Did I ever hold your hand, kiss you, or hug you? What the hell do you think you are to me? Stop fucking deluding yourself.”
The young woman stared at him, her face crumpling with hurt. “Chen Zhuo, you… you bastard!” she sobbed, then turned and ran off, crying.
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