She was utterly helpless and terribly frightened.
The despair that could not be experienced firsthand, the disappointment that could not be conveyed in words.
Now all she had left for him were despair and disappointment.
Mo Shiche stood with one hand in his pocket, his white shirt and black trousers against the misty drizzle, his demeanor cool and detached. After a long while, he lifted his eyelids to look at the woman in front of him, her face marred with scars, and said indifferently, "Talk about the past, but just the key points. I'll give you ten minutes."
Luo Hongying paused, "The past..."
The man interrupted her, "If you don't want to drag your husband down with you to death, then tell the truth."
Luo Hongying bit her lip and briefly recounted the incidents from six years ago in the most abbreviated way possible.
Mo Shiche didn't comment, but he didn't interrupt her either. From his deep expression, it was clear he believed her.
