"Sister, you are just a substitute." Shen Qingyi's voice was as soft as March catkins, but it was wrapped with poisonous needles and pierced into her eardrums, "Look, you have worn his Bai Yueguang's clothes for three years and learned her music, chess, calligraphy and painting for three years, but you still drank a glass of poisonous wine from him."
She wanted to laugh, but there was only a whooshing sound in her throat. With her vision blurred, she saw Jamel Xiao standing three steps away. There was no trace of emotion on the face that she once thought was her husband. The Pisces jade pendant on his waist and the one Shen Qingyi was playing with in her hand glowed with the same warm light under the candlelight, making her eyes hurt.
"Why?" She used her last strength to squeeze out three words through her teeth.
Jamel Xiao did not answer. He turned around, and the hem of his brocade robe brushed against her hanging fingers, cold and decisive. However, Shen Qingyi leaned down and gently wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the handkerchief embroidered with lotus flowers. Her movements were as gentle as taking care of a child: "Because, while you are alive, you have blocked the way of too many people, sister."
