"Don't touch my mom with your filthy hands."
Ruan Wencheng collapsed onto the ground like a puddle of mud, his eyes staring fiercely in her direction, reaching out with a trembling hand, only to grasp a handful of empty air.
"No..." A broken moan escaped his throat.
Since Ruyue's death, that scene had become an everlasting nightmare for him. Every night he dreamed of Ruyue; his guilt and unease grew day by day, and these emotions multiplied at the sight of Zhuang Fanxing. He thought that as long as he avenged Ruyue, he would find peace, so he placed all the blame on Zhuang Fanxing. The last remnants of affection between them were consumed by this daily torment, leaving no love, only endless hatred.
