As Tang Wu spoke, Shi Lingyan's gaze was fixed on her eyes the whole time.
Her eyes were calm and dull, her determination and indifference clear.
For the first time in his life, Shi Lingyan felt so suffocated, he barked, "Are you serious, Tang Wu? Do you really think that I killed you?"
"Is it not?" Tang Wu countered coldly, indifferently tugging at her lips.
Suddenly, Shi Lingyan's mind seemed to connect the dots, a moment of clarity.
She hated him, loathed him—did she truly believe that he had once tried to kill her?
"Including the last time," Shi Mei tried to pull her hand away, but after two tugs, she failed, "Wasn't the assassin in the forest also sent by you?"
Shi Lingyan recalled that stab.
The scar on his abdomen was still starkly visible, the newly healed wound still occasionally itchy.
That one stab had nearly claimed his life.
Had she stabbed so decisively because she thought he had sent the assassin to kill her?
