"Guan Haoyang, how could Cencen run into a bastard like you? Are you even a man? Framing your own wife, you're insanely cruel! I curse you to never find true love in this life, and may everything you contrive turn to nothing! After you die, you should descend to the eighteenth level of hell, never to be reincarnated!" Xi Yan hurled all her venomous words at Guan Haoyang, her heart aching with fury.
Qin Yucen, however, remained silent; she didn't even have the strength to speak. Her face had turned as pale as her wedding dress, symbolic of happiness, now blending into one color. She tugged at Xi Yan, "Yanyan, that's enough, don't let him dirty your mouth or waste your breath."
"Cencen..." Xi Yan clasped her hands tightly, seeing her like this was even more painful than if she herself were in the same plight, deeply blaming herself, "I'm useless, I can't help you. I—"
