"In that regard, don't you know what your husband is like? Lingling, there are times when I really feel sorry for you, but think about it, haven't you suffered enough indignities over these past few years?"
Wang Ping glanced sideways at Li Lingling while picking grapes from her hand and said to herself:
"My, look at you, day by day your skin isn't as good as mine. You see, always worrying about such troubles, even your sleep isn't peaceful anymore. Do you think you can really live well like this?
Don't say you can always endure it. I have seen all the resentment you've harbored over these years — if it weren't seriously unbearable from another woman's point of view, I wouldn't be able to speak these words. A woman has to seek her own happiness.
And then there's this: you might endure it for a few years, but look at you, already past thirty and still without a child. With your husband's condition, there's no way he can give you a child in this lifetime.
