"You don't remember me?" The man took a few steps forward, getting closer to her.
"Hmm..." Ouyang Xiaojun carefully examined his face for a long time, then shook her head. Sorry, she really had no recollection of this man.
"Cross Street, traffic controller, you really don't remember?" The man reminded.
Ouyang Xiaojun furrowed her brows and once again scrutinized him, pondering, reminiscing, but she truly couldn't recall: "..."
The man looked at her with a smile, full of expectation, yet what he ended up waiting for was still Ouyang Xiaojun's reply: "I'm sorry, I truly don't remember."
"I say, young lady, I'm not too inconspicuous, am I? You actually don't remember." The man's shoulders dropped, "I consider myself fairly handsome, generally women who've seen me shouldn't forget."
"Sorry." Ouyang Xiaojun apologized, but it was clear she wasn't very sincere.
It seemed she didn't have the obligation to remember him.
