The smoke was hazy as Li Qiang spoke of the past, the ferocity in his eyes growing ever stronger. Having lived his childhood amidst murder and darkness from the age of ten, it was no wonder he had such a mindset today.
"That night, I held her in my arms, fragile like a flower that couldn't withstand the storm, withering away before it could even fade. She clutched my hand, wanting me to ease her pain, but I couldn't do anything except watch her die in my arms," Li Qiang crushed out his cigarette on the ground and said, "She was only nineteen when she died. In those nineteen years of her life, how many days did she actually live happily? Abducted at nine and living in darkness until she was sixteen. After sixteen, she suffered from illness for three years. People always tell me about karma, but I really can't understand what wrong she did, what evil she committed, to deserve such a fate."
