When An Qianmei uttered that last sentence, Jiang Shuya was completely undone. The color drained from her face as if it had been forcibly extracted, leaving only a ghostly pallor. Her heart pounded more violently in her chest as those nightmarish memories surged up to drown her like a rising tide.
It was as though her breath had stopped temporarily. Her hand holding the phone trembled, and even her whole body shook. Cold sweat beaded her white forehead due to fear, and a chilling coldness crept up her spine.
Through the receiver, An Qianmei heard Jiang Shuya gasp sharply. The corners of her vivid red lips lifted slightly, forming a trace of triumph and a smile.
She sensed Jiang Shuya's fear and unease.
It seemed the person hadn't lied to her; the shameful past was indeed a permanent scar in Jiang Shuya's heart, and any mention of it would cause her unbearable pain. That showed just how deeply this matter had wounded her.
