When the internet was in an uproar, Qiao En chose to stay out of it.
If the heart does not waver, how can the wind affect me?
She left the house alone and went to the Ding Family's graveyard again.
There was a tomb there that belonged to her.
This time, she did not bring chrysanthemums and went up the steps empty-handed.
The tomb, weathered by wind and rain, gradually took on a look of antiquity.
It sat there lonely, forgotten by everyone, with no one to look after it.
Standing in front of the tomb, Qiao En felt an exceptional calmness in her heart.
The person who had died was not her, but it seemed like her.
It was the once timid her.
"Seeing your own tomb, isn't it ironic?"
Suddenly, a voice came from behind.
Qiao En turned around to see Ding Hao walking toward her.
He reeked of alcohol, with a mischievous smile on his lips and a look of resentment in his eyes.
"Perhaps."
Qiao En responded indifferently.
