The study was no longer its usual tidy self.
Writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone lay scattered on the floor in chaos, with dark ink splattered everywhere. Her husband, and her cousin—their appearance was even more appalling. Their clothes were naturally disheveled, and the blush on their fair faces had not yet faded.
Her husband had always been aloof and self-restrained. Ever since she gave birth to the child, he had never touched her.
Wan Niang had originally thought his heart was tied to that woman outside. She never expected—
Looking at He Ping'an's face, she felt a chill run through her whole body, as if she had been slapped hard a few times. Bitterness and hatred filled her, clogging her throat and making her vision go dark, almost unable to breathe.
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