The year her only guardian died, thirteen-year-old Mo Qinghan met He Zheyu, who was going by the name Sanye.
From then on, she took root in He Zheyu's heart.
At nineteen, she became He Zheyu's woman, but after everyone turned against her and left her battered and bruised, she fled.
At twenty-two, she returned, no longer a sweet, adorable girl, but a woman who had gone dark.
Mo Qinghan nervously bit down on the fork in her hand and said, “I can't remember why I slept in your room last night. And did we... do any exercise last night? My waist and legs are so sore!”
At that, He Zheyu choked on the milk he had just taken a sip of. “Cough, cough, cough!”
Mo Qinghan hurriedly handed him a tissue, but still wouldn't let it go. “Did I climb through the window and fall out, hurting my back?”
