Leaning on his body to get down from the bed, Qing Li slowly walked to where his blood-stained clothes were, reached out, and took out a wrinkled piece of paper from inside.
Then, he leaned on his body to slowly move back onto the bed.
Men are supposed to bleed without shedding tears, but as he looked at the paper in his hands that had turned dark with dried blood, he couldn't hold back anymore.
Opening the blood-soaked paper, one could still make out the handwriting, delicate and neat, just like his mother's character—seemingly gentle yet strict.
Qing Li blamed her for abandoning him to his master when he was just a child, but he also missed her, longing for the day she would come back for him.
Although he never got to see that day.
Only last night did he find out how much his mother truly loved him.
Looking at the contents of the letter, Qing Li felt as if his heart was being twisted by a knife.
