"Aunt Lan Hua, I'm not going to kill you or torture you. I'm going to save you," Qin Mei said, toying with the small knife. She wasn't about to hand the weapon back just to test the woman; human nature could never withstand such trials.
"Save me?" Aunt Lan Hua scoffed. She opened her eyes and looked straight at Qin Mei, her gaze full of pure irony. "I've spent my days hunting geese, only to get my eyes pecked out by one in the end. I admit defeat."
"Aunt Lan Hua, do you have children?" Qin Mei asked.
Aunt Lan Hua felt a sharp pang in her chest. It was an old wound, a scar violently ripped open again, leaving it bloody and raw.
She once had a husband, a son, and a daughter. Her husband had died of illness, her son had drowned, and her daughter had burned to death. She was the sole survivor, but she was living a life worse than death.
Observing Aunt Lan Hua's reaction, Qin Mei was certain the woman had a story—and it was undoubtedly a tragic one.
