Every word felt like a knife carving deeply into her heart, the pain mixed with a strong scent of blood.
"No need, those were gifts from me. There's no reason to take them back," Po Xiaoyan said.
"I'll give you three months; leave him. You know what needs to be done."
"I understand."
Tianxing rose with a pale face, her steps stiff as she walked toward the door.
Everything before her seemed to warp into a mirage, she couldn't hear anything, see anything.
Guided by intuition, she reached the door, but her hand missed the doorknob twice.
Finally managing to open it, Tianxing found herself unaware of how she made it back to her room.
Looking at the pile of bags filled with clothes and jewelry on the floor, smelling the lingering scent of Yuntian in the air, Tianxing's eyes and nose stung intensely.
She wanted to cry, but she couldn't.
If she cried, Yuntian would notice when he returned, and he would surely worry.
