In the seventh year of my marriage to Gu Chen, he handed our child over to his first love to raise.
He made me test the medicine on myself to cure her illness.
“Ruoruo, it’s only some medicine. At most, it might affect your mind a little.”
I signed the agreement in front of him, willingly agreeing to test the medicine.
It turned out that the “slight effect on my mind” he’d mentioned meant losing my memories.
I began to forget I had a child.
I forgot how he had once ruined my reputation.
I forgot that I’d once loved him more than life itself.
I even forgot he was my husband.
“Sir, have you mistaken me for someone else?”
“Your wife lives over there.”
I pointed to the house next door, but his eyes turned red.
What a strange man.
I smiled at him, so why was he crying?
