Her eyes blazed with fire, glaring fiercely at those beggars, but her lips were pressed so tight they turned white, and she said nothing.
Li Xingyuan looked at the beggars, then at Yao He.
Yao He was about to explain the whole story—
"Can I borrow this knife?" the woman beside him suddenly asked.
Tang Jiaojiao looked at her.
She had never seen this woman before, yet inexplicably felt a sense of familiarity.
The woman released the maid's supporting hand and took a step closer to Tang Jiaojiao, trembling like a withered branch in a cold wind, yet ultimately stood firm.
"Could I borrow the honorable's knife?"
…
That day returning home, Tang Jiaojiao had a dream.
In the dream, there were flashes of swords and knives, plots and schemes.
Soon, she saw the woman named Qi Qiao standing face to face with her.
It was as if a mirror stood between them, and they were in two different worlds at either end.
She looked at Qi Qiao as if looking at herself in the mirror.
