Yan Han turned over in a state between dreaming and waking.
Then, with a thud, she rolled off the bed onto the floor.
Pain, pain, pain.
The pain jolted the girl awake, and she pursed her lips, covering her head.
Feeling a bit wronged, somewhat wanting to cry, but no tears came out.
Alone, with no audience, who would she cry for?
She had learned when growing up that actually, tears have no value.
Unlike when she was a child, when she had her parents and brother, stumbling in the dark against a wall, or like today, falling off the bed.
She could immediately burst into loud sobs.
Her parents and Brother Shuang would appear before her instantly, holding and comforting her.
That was the function of tears.
But now, without parents, and having moved away from her brother,
No one would come to hold her again.
Her tears, therefore, had lost their value.
Rubbing her head, Yan Han stretched out her hand to feel the edge of the bed and stood up.
