Facing Su Liang's confusion, Ji Shiyi had a look of reluctance to talk much. She would always think of many, many things—where exactly was that person?
She had a belly full of questions she wanted to ask, even sneaking out without telling her second brother, who must be worried sick.
But it seemed that her life had almost no other meaning left.
It was more important than life or death, or perhaps, it had long become an obsession?
If replaced by someone else, they might think her persistence was somewhat ridiculous.
She just wanted to know what that person was thinking back then, and whether he regretted doing such things afterward. The answers to these questions were truly important to her.
After all, she had been thinking constantly about that day for years, about the day she was left half-dead in a pool of blood. The desolation, the despair, shocked and pained.
Truly, truly, such feelings defied pen and ink.
