She dressed as the evil woman who tortured him.
He would rather be broken than broken.
In that woodshed, he was hung by chains for one hundred and thirteen days. His whole body was covered with wounds, but he clung to his thin lips - that was his last city, which could not be broken by medicine or taken away by torture.
She knelt in front of him, her hands covered with blood, and suddenly remembered her previous life - she had stepped on countless people in the mall to get to the top, and she had never felt sorry for anyone.
But at this moment, she felt distressed.
She began to use the stupidest way to warm his frozen heart bit by bit. His body instinctively stiffened and trembled when touched - the humiliation of being drugged four times was etched into his bones.
But she just held his face gently and said -
"Shen Du, your lips are yours. It's up to you who you want to give them to."
This is a story about broken jade becoming beautiful and dead wood becoming spring again.
