Situ Yunshu smiled; marriage is one of the most important things in a woman's life.
Through the phone, she could feel Qiao An's joy.
The sense of happiness was transmitted through the airwaves.
How wonderful.
She sat quietly in the pavilion, letting her thoughts drift away.
Mu Jingnan stood outside the pavilion, gazing deeply at her—what was she thinking about?
Does she think about the lost child?
She probably does.
Even he often had nightmares, dreaming of a blood-soaked child stumbling toward him, crying and asking why he abandoned him.
The child's innocent voice repeatedly called him "Daddy."
When jolted awake from a nightmare, not once was he dry.
Sweat soaked his body like he had just been pulled from the water.
The nightmares haunted him; if it was so for him, what about her who bore such great pain?
He closed his eyes, not daring to think deeply—it was a wound of his, unspeakable.
He believed Heaven was punishing him; thus, Situ Yunshu could not bear children.
