“She’s a mute. Who could ever really love a mute?” “The only thing she has going for her is that she looks just like Zhao He.” I opened my mouth, but not a sound came out. I touched the scar on my neck that had robbed me of my voice. When Zhao He came back, I stepped aside of my own accord. But he imprisoned me in agony, asking me every night, “Did you really never love me?” Later, I answered him, “Never.”
