The pain spread from her fingertips to her heart, as if someone was using a dull knife to cut open her flesh inch by inch. She opened her eyes suddenly, and saw the faded green gauze curtains, and the damp musty smell lingering on the tip of her nose - this was her dilapidated wing in the southwest corner of Gu's house, a place where even the maids did not want to set foot.
"Miss, are you awake?"
A timid voice sounded in my ears. Gu Nian turned around and saw a thin figure standing in front of the couch holding a copper basin with a flattering smile on his face. That was Ah Jiu, the mute slave she picked up from a mass grave in her previous life. She could still speak now, but her voice was hoarse as if it had been sandpapered.
Gu Nian didn't answer.
Her memory still remains in the dry well - dark, cold, and suffocating. When she was pushed down, Shen Qingyi's pitiful face was above her head, and she said with tears, "Sister, don't blame me." Standing behind her was Gu Mingyuan, her beloved brother whom she had trusted for sixteen years, and Liu, whom she had called "mother" for ten years.
