When the raindrops crackled on the bluestone, the divorce letter also hit Jiang Wanning's face.
The edge of the page scraped against my cheekbone, leaving a small sting.
She lowered her eyes and saw the ink stains smeared on the expensive gold-sprinkled paper - the words "Seven out of the rules, the first one is adultery" were written so hard that they penetrated the back of the paper, as if they were going to pierce the paper.
"See for yourself."
Huo Jue's voice came from above the head, mixed with the aftertaste of thunder before the rain.
He stood in front of the main seat in the main hall, the hem of his black brocade robe motionless, and the copper buckle of the sword on his waist reflected the darkening sky outside the window.
This man had been married to her for three years and had shared her bed for more than nine hundred days and nights. He looked at her now as if he were looking at stolen property that needed to be disposed of.
Jiang Wanning didn't pick up the divorce letter.
She raised her pale, almost transparent fingers and slowly smoothed her hair that was messed up by the corner of the paper.
This action caused the wide plain sleeves to slip down, revealing a thin and lonely wrist, with protruding wrist bones, and the skin was so thin that the light blue veins underneath could be seen.
"Husband," she said, her voice as soft as a wisp of smoke, "What does this mean?"
"What do you mean?" Huo Jue sneered and took out another piece of paper from his sleeve.
The piece of paper fluttered and landed at her feet. On it was a poem transcribed in small regular script with hairpin flowers - "I miss you every night, but I don't see you, and we drink the water of the Yangtze River together."
