Gone was the spirited confidence of the past; at this moment, what Shi Xian could sense from Shu Yimo was a more pervasive, desolate loneliness, not a self-destructive abandonment after surviving calamity but rather a restrained accumulation.
Yet, even so, Shi Xian still couldn't bear to see the gloom on her face.
"Don't look at me with that pitying gaze, I'm not that fragile."
Shu Yimo, seeing the compassion in Shi Xian's eyes, chuckled softly and quietly served her some food.
Shi Xian's face tensed for a moment; her hand holding the wine glass also suddenly became stiff. She didn't understand why, but a bitter taste filled her throat, impossible to spit out or swallow. All she could do was take a deep breath, silently enduring the discomfort in her chest, and pour another glass down.
She didn't like this feeling of helplessness either. If possible, she would share this torment with her without a moment's hesitation.
"Oh, by the way—"
