A dark figure hurried into the kitchen, her footsteps light and stealthy.
With the faint moonlight, the silhouette of the figure was vaguely discernible as a woman.
The cool breeze blew, causing the fallen leaves to rustle.
Unwillingly, the woman held her breath, her eyes flickering with tension. She glanced behind her from time to time, her palms sweating coldly.
She had to make it quick; no one would come at this hour, she reassured herself, turning to look at the steaming stew pot in front of her.
She took a deep breath, opened her palm, and a small black porcelain bottle almost blended into the night. She reached out to lift the lid of the stew pot, and the rising steam blurred her facial expression.
It was all their fault, they drove her to this, she didn't want to come to this, if anyone's to blame, it's because they were too unfair to her, too unfair to her child.
