When Yan Qingyao was carried onto the ambulance, Rong Qian saw her covered in blood.
According to Fu Bozhong, Shen Chi had been furious, smashing a chair in his rage. He intended to teach her a lesson and, without thinking, grabbed a wooden stick and struck Yan Qingyao across the face.
But no one expected that the stick had a sharp nail embedded in it. The nail cut a long gash down her face, from her eye socket to the corner of her mouth.
Blood quickly soaked through Yan Qingyao's pristine white gown.
When Yan Qingyao returned from the hospital, her face was wrapped in thick bandages. Because the cut reached her mouth, she could no longer speak, and even opening her mouth was a struggle. She could only consume liquid food.
It was said that the first thing Yan Qingyao did upon returning was to smash all the mirrors. She locked herself in her room, refusing to see anyone.
Meanwhile, the culprit, Shen Chi, went about his life as if nothing had happened, continuing his routine of coming and going, deaf to Yan Qingyao's suffering.
After her disfigurement, Yan Qingyao never wore her beloved white gown again. She dressed in black every day, her hair unkempt, moving through life like a walking corpse.
Every night, she would wander around at midnight, terrifying a maid who happened to be up to use the restroom.
Soon, no one dared to leave their rooms at night.
Rong Qian, fearing that Yan Qingyao might do something reckless, secretly followed her every evening.
Her concerns proved valid. One night, she saw Yan Qingyao, dazed and disheartened, heading toward the rooftop. It was only by quick reflexes that Rong Qian managed to grab her by the waist and pull her back.
Yan Qingyao's gaze was hollow, as if her soul had departed. Her eyes were devoid of light, and the scar on her face was both shocking and terrifying, evoking a sense of fear.
But Rong Qian only felt pity.
She reached out to touch her face, and at that moment, Yan Qingyao snapped out of her trance. She recoiled in terror, retreating into the corner, hugging her knees, trembling uncontrollably, refusing to let anyone near her.
Seeing her so frightened, Rong Qian didn't dare to make any sudden moves. She sat a little distance away, keeping her company and waiting for her to calm down before attempting to speak.
After a long while, Yan Qingyao's weak voice broke the silence. "I really envy you…"
Rong Qian looked up at her. Her hair, cascading down to cover half of her face, made her pale skin seem even more ghostly. With her wide, unblinking eyes and the unsettling expression, she resembled something from a nightmare.
Rong Qian rested her chin on her hand, her posture relaxed, as if she were speaking with an old friend. She treated her no differently because of her scars.
"Why would you envy me?" Rong Qian asked lazily.
"You live so freely," Yan Qingyao replied, lowering her gaze to her hands, murmuring, "Once, I lived freely too…"
Rong Qian thought for a moment, understanding that what Yan Qingyao truly meant was an inner sense of freedom.
"Are you... Angel?" Yan Qingyao suddenly asked, staring at her.
Rong Qian was taken aback. Angel? She almost laughed; it was the first time someone had called her that.
"But I know... the one you protect isn't me," Yan Qingyao said, standing up and walking away.
Rong Qian watched her leave before following her.
What Rong Qian didn't know at that moment was that this would be the last time she saw Yan Qingyao…
Rong Qian should have suspected something when Yan Qingyao initiated a meeting with Shen Yi. That should have been the red flag, yet she naively thought Yan Qingyao had come to terms with everything.
She watched as Shen Yi's figure grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared around the corner.
Not long after Shen Yi entered Yan Qingyao's room, Rong Qian heard a loud crash, like something heavy had fallen from a great height and landed on a car.
A sense of foreboding flooded over her, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it. She rushed to the window and looked down…
"Ah!"
A scream of terror echoed from below, followed by someone shouting, "The madam jumped!"
Yan Qingyao had jumped, right in front of Shen Yi, from the window. She fell onto Shen Chi's expensive sports car. The delicate, porcelain-like Yan Qingyao had finally shattered.
That day, she wore her favorite white gown, her black hair spread out, a smile on her face. It was the first time, and the last time, Rong Qian saw her smile.
It was said that when Shen Chi ran out and saw his beloved car ruined, all he said was, "How unlucky!"
When Fu Bozhong arrived at the room, he found Shen Yi climbing out of the window, crying desperately, repeatedly shouting for her not to go. Fu Bozhong was horrified and quickly pulled him back inside.
At the time, Shen Yi was coughing violently, and in the end, coughed up blood before passing out.
That night, after Yan Qingyao's death, Shen Chi was drunk in her room, heavily intoxicated. As he stumbled about, his eyes caught a glimpse of something covered by a white cloth on the easel.
He knew that Yan Qingyao had studied art, but since marrying him, she hadn't painted much.
Shen Chi staggered over, ripped the cloth away, squinting at the canvas. It was a painting of an angel in a white gown.
At first, Shen Chi thought it was a self-portrait, but upon closer inspection, he realized the face was unfamiliar.
The woman in the painting smiled radiantly, her eyes bright and clear, her expression pure. Her smile seemed to have a healing quality, and it suddenly struck him that this might be the image of herself Yan Qingyao had fantasized about—confident, cheerful, and full of light.
As Shen Chi thought this, he turned around and saw a woman standing before him. "Qingyao?"
Having drunk too much, Shen Chi's vision was blurry, and it took him a moment to realize that the woman standing in front of him looked exactly like the angel in the painting.
Rong Qian, too, saw the painting. Yan Qingyao had truly seen her as an angel.
But Rong Qian wished she could tell her that she was mistaken. She, Rong Qian, was no benevolent angel. She had always been someone who took revenge, and in many people's eyes, she was a demon.
"Who are you?" Shen Chi rushed at her, demanding.
Rong Qian didn't dodge. As he lunged toward her, she kicked him squarely in the chest. Shen Chi, too drunk to resist, collapsed to his knees in front of her.
She grabbed his collar, lifting him up and immediately slapped him several times. "These slaps are for what you did to Shen Yi. I'm returning them to you now!"
With that, she shattered a beer bottle and pressed the sharp glass against his face. "This cut is for what you did to Yan Qingyao. I want you to remember her every time you look in the mirror!"
As she spoke, Rong Qian made the cut, leaving a shallow but painful mark on his face.
Shen Chi, his mind clouded by alcohol, was entirely at her mercy. Rong Qian, unable to hold back her anger, pummeled him relentlessly.
Finally, she yanked him up and slammed him against the wall, choking him by the neck. "If it weren't for the law, I would have shot you dead!"
Fu Bozhong had been waiting anxiously outside for a long time. When he realized that Rong Qian hadn't come out yet, he grew increasingly worried, regretting his decision to let her meet Shen Chi.
The door was locked, and no matter how urgently Fu Bozhong knocked, it made no difference. Just as he was about to knock again, the door opened, and Rong Qian stepped out.
"Miss Rong, are you alright?" Fu Bozhong asked quickly.
Rong Qian looked down at her hands and casually replied, "My hands hurt a little."
"He… he hurt your hands?" Fu Bozhong, now furious, stormed in to confront Shen Chi.
But when he entered, he was left speechless.
She had done all this?
Rong Qian paid no attention to Shen Chi's fate. Shen Yi was still lying unconscious on the bed, and she needed to be there for him.
And Shen Yi, after all that had happened, still hadn't woken up. A full day and night had passed.
"Miss Rong, you should rest. I can take care of him," Fu Bozhong suggested.
Rong Qian shook her head. "It's fine. I'll wait for him to wake up before resting."
She hoped that when he woke up, he would see her there, and that she could offer him some comfort.
During the time Shen Yi remained unconscious, the familiar sound of the piano was no longer heard. Rong Qian missed it a little. She walked over to the piano, lifted the lid, and pressed a few keys. The sound was as beautiful as ever.
She sighed, her gaze falling back on Shen Yi, her worry and concern impossible to hide.
How heart-wrenching it would be for him to wake up and find his mother gone…
Just then, Rong Qian heard the sound of a camera shutter. The flash momentarily blinded her, and she instinctively shut her eyes.
When she opened them again, she found herself sitting on a small stool, holding a bowl of warm oden.
Rong Qian was momentarily disoriented, her mind blank.
She turned her head and saw a little girl smiling at her, licking an ice pop.
The child's innocent smile made Rong Qian pause, feeling a strange shift in the air. It was as though the heavy sorrow of the past moments had been momentarily lifted by this simple, pure gesture.
For a brief second, she allowed herself to feel something lighter, something akin to hope.