No, she had long known that she had become, in their hearts, a woman who sways with the wind.
Thinking of this, her heart felt a bit sorrowful and desolate. Perhaps, in this world, there simply wasn't anyone who truly understood and believed in her. What did growing up together mean—after all, he had still said such insulting words to her...
"Why don't you speak, why don't you respond? Are you admitting it, Zi Ruoxi? I really misjudged you." Qiao Muyun spoke coldly. The wound in his heart had solidified; he wouldn't feel relieved until he expressed it all, he wouldn't feel better until he vented his anger heavily. It seemed like an emotional transfer—his hatred poured onto her so he might feel a little better, but would he truly feel better? Would it not hurt even more, would it cause an irremediable mistake?
She didn't want to speak; she didn't want to be the target of their fantasies and harm anymore. Zi Ruoxi's eyes looked wounded, yet her beautiful face remained indifferent.
