Weilan's smile was icy cold, her lips curved like the blade of a knife, as she stared into her mother's stunned eyes, the disbelief clear in her gaze.
She repeated each word with emphasis, "Don't come looking for me in the future. If you do, I can't guarantee what I might do. I don't care about cursing my parents. If you have any sense, stay far away from me, and we'll owe each other nothing from then on!"
She never believed in fortune-telling; those so-called curses on parents were nothing but fabricated nonsense by charlatans begging for a meal.
Yet Weilan never dreamed that she would become the very sacrifice those charlatans spoke of.
Because of their empty words, she was abandoned.
It was utterly absurd.
Madame Shen lunged at her again, grabbed Weilan's hair, and yanked it fiercely, "Owe nothing? You owe us, and you've taken our shares. You want unearned wealth, you wretched jinx. Why don't you just die? Go die, die!"
