The serene moonlight pierced through the window, casting a glow on the clean stone slabs.
Zuo Ying opened her eyes and carefully listened to the breathing of the person next to her pillow. It was steady and rough, full of life. She slightly moved her body. Every part of her hurt, but her expression remained unchanged as if she had long gotten used to this pain. She slowly sat up, making no sound, and then her left hand pulled a chopstick from under the bedsheets.
This chopstick, used in daily life as a piece of wood, was unique only because it had been sharpened to a point.
Turning her head, Zuo Shan's ugly face appeared before Zuo Ying. Knowing that Zuo Shan wouldn't wake up after their recent strenuous activity in bed, she was sure he would remain asleep, at least until she made her move.
It's enough… Let's end all this...
Zuo Ying thought to herself.
Long-term perseverance had become purposeless, and the daydreams of the past were replaced by sorrow.
