Qin Qingluo's fingertips trembled lightly as she stroked her swollen belly. Suddenly, she froze, the candlelight flickering through the screen casting shadows on her face.
After a long pause, she laughed and said, "In the end, it's all just a whore's heartlessness and an actor's fickleness."
Zhu E was momentarily taken aback.
In recent days, Qin Qingluo had grown increasingly irritable, her tirades against that man becoming commonplace. Not only Chen Yi himself, but even his ancestors for eighteen generations before and after had not escaped her scorn.
Yet, this was the first time Zhu E heard such grievance.
As if walking alone in the vast world,
An unspoken sense of loss.
Zhu E observed her, unable to help but say, "In that letter… he mentioned you more times than he did Aunt."
