In the guest room, He Xiyan lifted the quilt. Sitting there leaning against the bedhead, she stared at the firmly closed window with blank eyes. Suddenly, she blinked her eyes, tears flowing from the corners of her eyes down her pale cheek, drop by drop.
Some vague pictures flashed through her mind.
Seawater, cliffs, sunset, man with a tiger tattoo on his arm, and...
What else? He Xiyan knocked on her head, but still could not remember.
Chen Jiahang was right. She indeed had committed suicide. When she woke up on the beach, the first man she saw was called Brother Hui. At that time, the man kept patting her face and pressing her stomach to wake her up so that they could sell her.
She committed suicide. She did.
A kind of inexplicable sadness surged in her heart. He Xiyan hugged her knees and all of a sudden, she sobbed in a low voice.
