"In a man's eyes, are we women merely commodities? To be bought and sold at their whim, regardless of whether the woman is a servant, a wife, or even his own sister?"
By the well sat a beautiful woman. She hadn't used soul power to adorn herself, appearing just as she did in death.
Her face was deathly pale with a thick layer of powder, lips painted bright red. Her clothes were colorful and thin, not like those worn by ordinary women at home. The gold hairpin on her head swayed with her slight movements, catching the eye.
Qiann Yan did not answer the woman's question; it seemed unnecessary at that moment, as the woman already had the answer in her heart.
Looking through history, indeed, as the woman said, in times dominated by men, the status of women was very low. Parents could sell them, brothers could sell them, husbands could sell them.
In truth, children were the same way. To put it bluntly, the weakest became goods to be traded.
