After a long while, the weasel-faced youth slowly came to. How he wished everything he had just experienced was all a dream!
The first thing he saw was still that pretty face, smiling like a blooming flower. Except now, in the youth's eyes, that face was countless times more terrifying than a demon's.
He said, his voice faint, "I was just about to tell you... but you... you destroyed another one of my fingers. How... how could you be so cruel?"
"Cruel? I don't think so!" She She looked at the youth with an innocent expression, then said with a beaming smile, "Now, you can talk, can't you?"
"I'll talk, I'll talk..." The youth lay there, feeling as if his very soul was no longer his own. He knew he wouldn't survive the day, no matter what. Rather than be tortured to death, it was better to ask for a quick end. Over the years, he hadn't done any good deeds, but he had done plenty of bad ones. Dying now could be considered retribution; there was nothing to regret.
