"I... I am just a Death Warrior?"
Yuan gazed blankly at his own hands, doubt in his eyes, yet when he tried to recall past events in detail, his brain ached like it was being pricked by needles.
Qian Ruohua said intermittently: "Two years ago when I met you again, you had lost your memory. I, I was afraid you would leave, more afraid that once you regained your memory you would return to the Dingyuan Marquis Mansion. I just hoped... you could live for yourself."
Huge mouthfuls of blood gushed from Qian Ruohua's lips. Zisu brought over a handkerchief for her, but the blood couldn't be stopped.
She stared fixedly at Yuan, trying to find a trace of fluctuating emotion on his face.
After hearing Qian Ruohua's words, Yuan raised his head, a hint of sorrow reflected in his amber eyes.
"So that's how it is."
Before his eyes, along with Qian Ruohua's words, appeared one fragmented and chaotic memory after another.
Yuan asked again: "But two years ago, why did I lose my memory?"
