"..."
The final moment.
Su Qingqing's figure halted.
These few words from Ye Huan made her completely lose the courage to dash herself against the iron wall.
"Thump."
Sitting down on the ground.
She buried her head between her legs, biting her lips hard, two streams of clear tears flowed unceasingly down, wetting the ground.
She wanted to smash into the wall and die, to atone for her sins.
But Ye Huan's words brought many images to her mind.
Song Yanhong and Su Dahai lay sick in bed, with no money for medical treatment, uttering painful groans, but no one responded to them.
The two of them just quietly passed away in endless despair and suffering.
It wasn't until many days later that their bodies, emitting a stench of decay, were discovered by the villagers, but no one collected their corpses.
Thinking of these images, even if she wanted to atone, she no longer had the courage to dash to her death.
She didn't want those scenes to become reality.
"..."
