Xia Ruoxin leaned against the headboard, took out her sketchbook, and began to sketch line after line—clearly and rapidly. Soon, a man's face appeared. His eyebrows were with character and lips were tightly pursed. He looked heartless and tough.
She got off the bed and picked up the calendar which was on the table. It's today again, her birthday. She was the only one who had remembered her birthday. Everyone else had forgotten.
The woman walked into the living room. Xiao Hong had cleaned everything meticulously. As expected, she did not have to do anything. Xia Ruoxin had become a useless person. She walked over to the telephone.
She picked up the telephone, and her fingers froze as she was about to dial the last digit with some hesitation. That was a forbidden number which should never be dialed. Her fingers tightened into a fist. In the end, the line went through as the last digit was dialed.
