As Moxiao had predicted, Ou Lan didn't sleep well all night.
It wasn't because she was afraid that Zhan Moxiao would flay her if he couldn't find that shirt, but because she truly felt guilty.
She had convinced herself that if Moxiao had preserved that blood-stained shirt for so many years, it must have been to cherish the memory of his former wife, Chu Yajie. Although it was unintentional, she had callously cut into someone else's deeply engraved love.
She considered her actions despicable and shameful.
Falling in and out of sleep, she woke up early in the morning.
She obediently went downstairs to make breakfast.
The refrigerator was already stuffed with ingredients, delivered by the servant in the early morning.
Her cooking skills were naturally not that great, but she had learned to adapt, cutting a plate of fruit, toasting some bread, heating three glasses of milk, and boiling three white eggs.
