"At that moment, I suddenly thought—maybe this is what fate had in store?
When I was at my loneliest, fate delivered someone I wanted to kill right to me. It also made someone I couldn't kill my friend, constantly reminding me of my own ugliness and distortion."
"I don't know how to describe this feeling... but I wanted to kill him."
Luo Xian looked at her father and told him earnestly, "Or it would be the same if he killed me."
In the prolonged silence, the old man studied his daughter, his eyebrows shooting up in astonishment.
Unsure whether it was regret or pity, he couldn't help shaking his head.
"...To think that your first love in your twenties is unrequited? That's such a pity, Xiao Xian..." the old man sighed softly. "Whether it's killing or being killed, loving or being loved, you're probably not going to attain any of it."
"Isn't this enough?"
