Gu Jin asked softly, "Little An, does it hurt?"
An Mingji was asked this question for the first time.
There were people who sympathized with him before, pitied him, but none of them had ever asked him whether it hurt.
Of course it did, a heart-wrenching pain.
Memories buried deep in his mind surfaced again, and resentment flashed in An Mingji's eyes.
Clearly, he hadn't stolen anything, but the villagers didn't believe him and brutally broke his leg.
If he hadn't escaped, he might have died in Qingshan Village.
Qingshan Village, nestled by mountains and water, was once his home.
Now, Qingshan Village was the beginning of disaster for him; it was the hell of his lifetime.
Gu Jin received no response from An Mingji, but she was already used to it.
She carefully washed every inch of his body.
The more she washed, the fewer stains remained on An Mingji's skin. His body, hidden by mud and as thin as a skein of bones, gradually became clear.
