Slow Voice

About This Novel

Han Yuqing lay on the grass, her head swollen to no end. She couldn't think of anything, her mind was buzzing, like a workshop that suddenly lost power. The machines stopped, but the air was still filled with lingering sounds. The brain is blocked by something. But she knew what had just happened. His anxiety and anger, his merciless push, his three steps and two steps to escape, all these are his contempt for her. All her fantasies of being as delicate as blue and white porcelain were shattered into pieces at this moment. She heard the sound of her heart exploding, with a "pop", exploding like fireworks. She knew that she was completely finished, struggling like a drowning person, sinking deeper and deeper, with no room for recovery. She hated herself and felt pity for herself. She let go of her painful right hand and saw that the small rocket-shaped crystal was bleeding in her hand. It turned out that it was not a beautiful witness, it was just a dagger, sharp and sharp... Han Yuqing lay with her belly on the grass and stretched out her tired left hand. There was a silver bracelet at her wrist. She pulled the silver bracelet up her arm and then cut the crystal knife off her wrist.

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