Shujun finished the letter, her voice muted, a hybrid of laughter and tears. Gently, she rubbed the paper, tenderly caressing her own name on it, as her eyes grew redder and redder.
"What does it mean to part amicably, to each find happiness? A year later, oh, a year after... because of Third Brother's illness, you plan to return after the medicine pouches are all used up. But if Third Brother wasn't sick, or if you had cured him, would your departure mean you would never come back?"
Zhi Chen came over and comforted her by patting her on the shoulder, but with a hoarse voice, Shujun asked, "Are you all satisfied now?"
Zhi Chen stiffened.
Shujun, as if possessed, slammed the letter on the desk with a smack, "I know each of you has your own calculations, how many of you truly care about her? You're scheming at heart, coveting her miraculous healing abilities because she said she could cure Third Brother, so you all act indifferent. You're observing, while I've lost my heart!"
