This time, Ye Qingci was truly heartbroken. She cried her face wet with tears, speaking incoherently.
Seeing the injured look and expression in Jian Shichu's eyes, she had never understood more clearly than at this moment that her life was not only her own but also Jian Shichu's.
Whether she was hurt, disabled, or even dead, the one who would be the first to suffer was Jian Shichu.
When she was injured, he had to foot the bill for the consequences.
When she fell ill, he had to keep her company at her bedside.
If she became disabled, he had to take care of her.
If she died, he would become the widower who lost his wife.
Her fate, thread by thread, every strand intimately connected with him.
To make an inappropriate analogy, she was effectively Jian Shichu's private property.
When she was hurt, the direct loser, aside from her, was Jian Shichu.
Her life was not only hers.
It was also Jian Shichu's.
Yet, for someone else, she nearly cost Jian Shichu his life.
