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She said, her complexion ashen, "Before we got married, that day at the pharmacy, Qinghe begged me to come back to him, but I refused. He looked so desperate... At the time... I thought he wouldn't harbor thoughts of death, but I never expected he would still... It's my fault; if I had persuaded him more, perhaps he wouldn't have..."
"Wife, this is not your fault," Xiao Yuchuan shook his head.
It was only then that he truly understood how deeply Fourth Brother also loved his wife.
But there can be only one wife, and even in death, Xiao Yuchuan would never be able to give her up.
"Sigh." Su Qingyue let out a soft sigh and stood up, glancing at a small bamboo basket in the corner, which contained the remnants of a shattered bowl. Presumably, Qinghe had broken a bowl before cutting his wrists and swept the porcelain shards into the basket.
There was also uneaten food in the basket, probably the meal Meijiao had brought him yesterday.