"It's probably for the best that they don't see me," Jiang Li said with a faint smile, "In this life, their fate has been unfortunate, to have encountered me, Jiang Li. Their luck has been utterly rotten. In my next life, I'll be their ox or horse."
When Jiang Li said these words, the bitterness was too much.
Su Lu couldn't even continue to eat. She put down her utensils, poured Jiang Li a glass of water, and placed a napkin next to his hand.
Seeing her gesture, Jiang Li suddenly laughed, "What's this for? You don't think I'm going to cry, do you? I won't. I've long since run out of tears."
When Ying Heng died, he thought he had cried his last tear.
Yet along came Ying Xi, with his shoulders burned raw by sulfuric acid, writhing silently in agony on the hospital bed. It was then, with tears pouring down like rain, that Jiang Li realized his tear ducts weren't dead after all; it seemed they were only activated by those with the surname Ying.
