To outsiders, Xia Chu was a well-behaved girl; to her mother, a hopeless mess; to her father, his precious darling; and to her best friend, someone who lived off others.
But she knew none of those labels defined her. She knew she was simply experiencing a life without desire, affection, or love.
That flower, drawn in watercolors, was the debt she had owed in her past life and had to repay in this one.
