Cheng Su barely slept the whole night. Her dreams were bizarre and fragmented—one moment it was Chiang Qing's tragic, screaming face, the next it was Qi Taiguo's dying, breathless figure, making her feel terribly distressed.
Just dreams, right?
Watching the sky outside the window slowly grow pale, she sat hugging the quilt for a long time before finally getting out of bed, walking out of the room, boiling water, and making herself a cup of hot tea.
Cradling the teacup, she walked out onto the balcony and watched the eastern sky shift from dark blue to light, then gradually to white. Her thoughts, along with the scalding tea sliding into her stomach, slowly cleared.
She had no time to mope or wallow, and she couldn't afford to let her mind run wild. With Qi Taiguo gone, she still had her parents to look after, and Xiao Qi. Her son was so young; he needed her too.
