Reborn on the eve of the night my husband and best friend murdered me, I decided to strike first.
But when I deliberately approached Gu Shen, I noticed his evasive gaze and trembling fingertips.
“Wanwan, don’t touch me... I’m dirty,” he rasped, pushing me away.
I sneered and mixed poison into his coffee. “What are you pretending for? Where’s the ruthlessness you showed when you killed me in my last life?”
He snatched the cup and drained it. “As long as you can live...”
Before collapsing, he pressed a diagnosis into my hand: late-stage stomach cancer, dated the day before our wedding.
“If I could start over... I’d rather have you hate me... than cry for me...”
The image of the man who had gone mad and thrown himself against my coffin at my funeral in my previous life suddenly came into sharp focus.
