She locked herself in the room, still plagued by a tangled mess of thoughts, hate, and humiliation—tormented to the point of breaking down.
With her body already maimed, what luxuries could she possibly have left?
Towards evening, she heard the doorbell ring.
Hiding under the covers, she laughed.
What did they want from her now?
The doorbell rang several times and then stopped; immediately after, she heard the sound of the door opening, followed by the dull thuds of dress shoes on the floor, and then the soft indentation on the large bed.
"Mianmian."
His voice was gently echoing in the room.
Mu Mian, wrapped tightly in her blanket, irritated, kept her eyes shut, refusing to see him or listen to a single word he said.
But who was Gong Heng? In his eyes, her resistance had always been a joke.
