Judging by the way he dressed and the exquisite box, the shoes inside should have a five-figure price tag.

There was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. We were complete strangers, yet he came over and offered me a gift out of the blue. This made me wonder and felt the need to be cautious.

Why would a stranger spend so much money just to help me out?

My feet were hurting, and I needed a pair of comfortable shoes. But not like this.

With this in mind, I politely smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thank you, Mister. But I don't need it."

"Why? Your feet are obviously hurting. Why refuse my help? Why endure when you can get comfortable?" The man raised an eyebrow, his playful expression deepening. His curiosity seemed to heighten as well.

Was he curious about me? Why?

He persisted by extending his hand and continuously pushing the box in my direction. I had to take a couple of steps back to maintain a polite distance.

this to you. Other women don't

like he

terribly poor. But that didn't mean I had to

if I didn't know where they came from—especially when I had to break some principles for them. I

my own efforts for everything rather than seeking handouts. That

carried myself with pride. I might be poor, but I wouldn't grovel to

had hit a

had become more restrained

like being

stopped

as

net

you're giving this to me. What can tell you is, please take it back. I don't need it. Also, I'd like to

someone's kindness?" The young

may bring more pain in the

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