Zhou Xingcai squatted on the ground, still shaking her head constantly; she wanted to dismiss the secrets she knew.
But secrets, once known, how can they be easily forgotten?
The more you try to forget something, the more it tends to take root in your heart, forming a nightmare-like existence.
In the courtyard.
A young man stood there; he had just witnessed the departure of a person in black clothes, unaware of the person's identity, though it didn't matter.
No matter who that person was or what they did to Zhou Xingcai, he could forgive her.
He liked this feeling.
Now, after the other person had left, it was his chance to show his concern.
The young man curiously walked over to Zhou Xingcai and tried asking, "Cai'Er, what's wrong?"
"Is there anything I can help with?"
Zhou Xingcai's shoulders trembled.
With her disheveled hair, she abruptly looked up at the young man.
Immediately afterward.
Without hesitation, Zhou Xingcai seemed as if she had clutched a lifeline.
