Xuan Yu was shocked, rushed over, and snatched the fruit knife from her daughter's hand, throwing it fiercely onto the carpet: "Xinyue! Have you lost your mind! What are you doing—"
Chu Xinyue's once plump cheeks, now thinned significantly over the past few days, bore the trace of a smile, yet this smile was sadder than sadness itself:
"Mommy, don't worry, I won't do something foolish. Even if I don't, this body of mine won't last much longer, so why bother with redundancy? I just want to forget that he's getting married tomorrow. If my body hurts a little, I can ignore the discomfort in my heart…"
Seeing her daughter using self-harm to numb herself, Xuan Yu felt as if a knife was cutting through her heart as she looked at the knife wounds on Chu Xinyue's delicate hands.
Especially when Xinyue said, "Even if I don't do something foolish, this body of mine won't last much longer," it made Xuan Yu's heart ache even more.
