After Shen Zhiyi finished speaking, Pei Yu suddenly fell silent, hanging his head slightly, his face indistinct in the dim light.
His silence left Shen Zhiyi feeling uneasy, unsure whether she had been too forthright.
"Pei Yu?" she called his name softly.
His confession had come too abruptly, not giving her time to think, otherwise she might have put it more delicately.
Pei Yu stood up, his youthful figure tall and slender, a faint woody scent on him. His hand hanging by his side moved slightly as he asked in a low voice, "Then, do you dislike me?"
He had no experience confessing to others, nor had he been rejected before. Suddenly hearing Shen Zhiyi's "dislike" made his mind go blank for a moment, and his heart felt as if it was being tugged fiercely.
Shen Zhiyi sat on the swing, facing the cool night breeze, and thought seriously for a moment, then shook her head, "I don't dislike."