Fu Shinian had watched all of Shi Lihua's suffering with an ironic detachment, without feeling much of anything special. It wasn't until Shi Lihua finally accepted that Yu Qingzhou had left, never to return, and sat on the ground in despair, like a walking corpse, that Fu Shinian quietly spoke up:
"Is there anything more ironic than this scene? The son of another that you painstakingly cherished as your own regards you as a serpent, yet you go to extreme lengths to send your own flesh and blood to his death. All your efforts, and in the end, those who leave do so, while the one you wish dead is still very much alive."
Shi Lihua let out a light laugh:
"Don't put on airs with me here. Now that I've fallen into your hands, there's nothing much to be said. What will you do to me? Kill me? Fu Shinian, don't forget, whether or not I consider you as my son, I am after all your mother. If you kill me, aren't you afraid of being struck by lightning?"
