Tang Yuxin stood still, unmoved, her gaze still fixed on Qin Ziye's face, cold and clear, yet devoid of the slightest ripples.
She was, after all, a frosty person, one who could abandon even the deepest of emotional connections with those who wronged her. She might be a woman devoid of love as she wouldn't even recognize her own biological mother, let alone acknowledge a love borne of deceit.
There were things in life, she thought, that she had to let go of.
And letting go was not about running away.
She clenched her arms and walked up to the sickbed. The man in front of her was no longer the Qin Ziyi of the past; his life had been tormented by disease until there was nothing left.
Even his life seemed to be slipping away.
"Yuxin..." Qin Ziye called out Tang Yuxin's name, but his voice was noticeably strained, hardly audible.