The girl's injuries were too severe; it was obvious she wouldn't survive.
Yet she struggled to lift her head, casting a pleading gaze toward Su Xingyu.
Su Xingyu's mind went blank. She felt she should do something before she realized she instinctively took out her camera and captured the moment. Don't talk about morality; in fact, when confronted with unexpected events, many excellent photographers instinctively react this way, just like how journalists risk their lives to grab news. Photographers will go to any lengths to take heart-stirring snapshots. And she was such a photographer.
The photo she posted to a photography forum caused quite a stir.
Her capture was precise, vividly portraying the girl's dying fear, her wide-open hazel eyes staring directly at the lens, even vaguely reflecting a bloody gleam—the kind that pierces into the soul, causing a shiver.
Many who saw it burst into tears on the spot.
The terrorist incident caused a sensation, and the photo she took was frantically shared. Nearly all the news used that photo as an illustration. But a few days later, all of the illustrations were thoroughly deleted.
The administrator of the photography forum contacted her: "Sorry, Xingyu, that photo has to be removed. The family of the deceased doesn't want that girl to be watched like that." In many news photographs, such situations occur, though laws seldom stipulate that news photos should protect the individuals' portrait rights. Often, even if the involved parties are unwilling, the photos still get published.
Unless, the individuals hold considerable power to suppress such news.
Su Xingyu guessed she met with the latter case?
At that time, she didn't think much and casually asked, "Who was that dead girl?"
The administrator replied, "It's unclear, really strange; your photo was so sensational, many gossip about who the girl was, yet no one unveiled her identity."
Perhaps she truly had a substantial background.
Su Xingyu didn't want trouble, so she followed the administrator's advice and removed the photo.
Not long after, on the night of her eighteenth birthday, she secretly took her camera out to find Qin Mu to celebrate, only to be bumped on the road, and the camera was snatched away. That camera was an heirloom from her mother; she anxiously chased the robber, lured into a studio, and then she encountered Lu Shifeng...
He cruelly assaulted her, taking photos that made her want to die of shame and anger.
The past was unbearable to recall.
Holding the flower tea Mrs. Gui made for her, Su Xingyu's body shivered with cold. How foolish of her! How had she never connected these two events? Was Lu Shifeng enraged and retaliated against her because of that photo?!
The more she thought, the more possible it seemed, asking urgently, "What does Miss Shi Yin look like? Is there a photo?"
Though Mrs. Gui didn't understand why she was so anxious, she found a photo for her. It was a photo of Lu Shiyin with her brother Lu Shifeng, the girl in the picture smiling brightly and happily holding her brother's arm.
Su Xingyu looked at her, her face turning pale—
It was indeed the girl she photographed back then!
The truth was revealed.
Lu Shifeng was indeed angry about Lu Shiyin's death.
But how innocent was she? She was merely a passerby who happened upon the event. At that time and place, any photographer there might have made the same decision as she did. That single photo, like a butterfly fluttering its wings, subtly changed her fate.
Su Xingyu felt it was absurd but had to accept the reality.
Calming herself, she asked Mrs. Gui: "Did Lu Shifeng have a good relationship with Miss Shi Yin? How good?"
Mrs. Gui sighed: "You know, the young master's nature is a bit gloomy, not adept at socializing with people. He didn't have many friends growing up, not even his siblings approached him easily. Only Miss Shi Yin enjoyed being close to him, so he cherished her like a jewel, fearing she would melt in his mouth. Upon learning of Miss Shi Yin's death, he was furious, taking revenge on all involved in the incident. Heard every thug had a miserable end."
Mrs. Gui spoke, sighing again: "But what does revenge change? Miss Shi Yin is already gone, and the young master truly doesn't have anyone to talk to anymore. These two years, he's becoming increasingly reclusive."
Su Xingyu sighed along, indeed the worst outcome, offending the person he treasured, likely being resented for a lifetime. But... she suddenly felt something was amiss; if Lu Shifeng hated her so much, why did he marry her?
Marrying someone you despise as a wife, is it fun?
Su Xingyu was puzzled again.
She chatted with Mrs. Gui about household topics, realizing she wouldn't find anything, she stopped.
With a heavy heart, she dealt with Lu Shifeng more carefully, not only welcoming him home every night but even learning from Mrs. Gui how to brew the tea he loved. Smiling gently, she suggested to Lu Shifeng: "Today, I strolled in the neighborhood, seeing beautiful flowers in others' yards, why don't we plant some too?"
She wanted to leave her mark in his life quietly, until the day she entered his heart.
Only then, could she have a chance to reclaim her dream.
Lu Shifeng said: "You decide."
She's been obedient lately, which pleased him.
Thus, Su Xingyu had the butler transplant some white roses, strikingly blooming in the yard.
Her aesthetic sense was excellent, comparable to an art master; each flower's position and stature were perfect, seamlessly integrating into the villa's existing cold metallic style. She also found some elegantly shaped vases, cut a few flowers to place in the living room, dining room, and even put one in his study.
He asked her: "Why white roses?"
Her face flushed slightly, soon smiling gently: "The floral language is pure love. Lu Shifeng, since we're married, let's live well together; roses make it feel like home. Plus, they're blooming beautifully this season."
He raised an eyebrow slightly, home feeling?
"A home is with a wife and children," he said.
Her face reddened deeper, bowing her head.
"Oh well, since you like it, let's keep it." He didn't mind small things, though the roses had a strong scent, he would learn to endure it. This was his little concession to his woman.
A few days later, when returning home, he handed her an exquisitely packaged gift box: "Open it and see."
She opened it suspiciously, finding inside a ring, a beautiful white jade carved into layered rose petals, sparkling in her palm, as lovely as an Illusion Dream. "Why give me this?" She looked up, puzzled.
"Do you like it?" he asked.