Gu Xianer snaps out of her memory as faint, distant sounds claw their way into her consciousness. But the relief of returning to reality is fleeting—mere seconds pass before the past comes crashing back like a tidal wave, drowning her in its suffocating weight. The insults she thought were buried resurface with razor-sharp clarity, slicing through her mind and blurring her vision:
"You, brainless hungry pig!"
"Reincarnation of the food-devouring monster!"
"Mindless hungry beast!"
Each word pierces deeper than any blade ever could, carving wounds that bleed not blood but shame, despair, and self-loathing. They echo in her mind, relentless and unyielding, until she feels like she's choking on their venom.
And then, cutting through the chaos like poisoned honey, her aunt's voice slithers into her ears—sweet, manipulative, dripping with false affection:
"So, do you understand? I want the best for you. I am just like your mother." A pause—a deliberate, calculated silence meant to sting—and then, louder, harsher, crueler:
"No, I am your mother! How dare you think otherwise? I don't want to see any flaw in my daughter. You will understand my feelings when you get married and have your own child."
Her words are knives wrapped in silk, each syllable twisting further into Gu Xianer's already fractured soul. Her mind falters, blind and deaf to everything except one word that reverberates like a death knell from the deepest pits of hell: "married."
The moment it echoes, the voices in her head explode into a cacophony of torment. They scream at her, relentless and merciless:
"Who would marry a brainless pig?"
"You should feel honored if even a pig agrees to take you."
"Her husband would be ruined feeding her gluttonous appetite!"
"Poor man—he'll live his life regretting the day he tied himself to such a worthless creature."
These words aren't just heard; they are felt. Every syllable vibrates through her body, sinking into her bones, seeping into her very marrow until every fiber of her being trembles under their weight. It feels as though invisible hands are tearing her apart piece by piece, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell.
Her chest heaves, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps as the weight of it all threatens to crush her. She can't take it anymore. The dam breaks, and with a raw, guttural scream that tears through the room, she cries out, her voice breaking with desperation, "My brother will feed me! My brother will marry me!"
Her gaze shifts wildly to Fang Yuan, who sits beside her, stunned. Tears stream down her face, unchecked and unrelenting, pooling in her eyes until they shine like shattered glass. In that gaze lies a paradox: boundless despair entwined with endless hope. It is as if her eyes are screaming what her lips cannot say:
"Brother, I know I am not good enough. I've always caused trouble for you. I know I am unworthy of your love. But please… please accept me. There is no one else in this vast, cold world who cares for me except you. I will learn—I promise. I will obey everything you say. Please don't abandon me. Please… don't leave me alone."
The room falls silent. Dead silent. Everyone—including Fang Yuan—stares at her in utter confusion. Moments ago, everything seemed normal. Even pleasant, perhaps. Her uncle and aunt had been doling out advice, cloaking cruelty in saccharine sweetness, insisting how much they truly loved her, how all their harshness was merely "tough love." And now, without warning, she has screamed out these words—words that seem incomprehensible, absurd, mad.
Fang Yuan freezes, his heart racing. He looks closer at Gu Xianer, searching her tear-streaked face, her trembling form. What he sees shocks him to his core: her gaze is a storm of contradictions—intense despair mingled with desperate hope. Her begging eyes pierce straight through him, unraveling years of carefully constructed defenses. His thoughts spiral:
"I've been by her side every step of the way. I thought I understood her pain, her sorrow—every tear she's shed, every silent moment she's endured. I made a promise to myself, a vow that I would give her a childhood filled with joy, with memories so bright they could outshine the shadows of her past. I believed I knew her, truly knew her, and that I was doing everything in my power to make her happy. But now... now it feels like I've been blind. How could I have missed it? How could I not see that she's still hurting? Why is this happening? Am I failing her again? No—I can't fail. I won't fail. Not this time. Not ever again. I will not let someone I love suffer, not while I still have breath in my body. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. Whatever it takes."
But then, suddenly, a phrase surfaces in his mind, sharp and haunting:
"No one can truly see the storms you've weathered or hear the echoes of your silent wars—what you bear, only you can hear."
It hits him like lightning. Panic surges through him, and he blurts out, almost shouting:
"I will marry you! Haven't I told you before?"
At his words, Gu Xianer's entire demeanor transforms. Her face lights up like dawn breaking after the longest night. Tears still stream down her cheeks, but now they are tears of relief, of joy, of salvation. She shouts, her voice trembling with excitement and newfound confidence:
"You see? My brother will marry me! I don't need anyone else. My brother is enough for me. I know my brother will never abandon me!"
The room plunges into silence again, heavier this time, thick with shock and disbelief. The aunt, the uncle, even Fang Zheng—they stare at her with wide, incredulous eyes. Their expressions shift slowly, darkening with judgment. To them, she is nothing more than a "brainless" girl, now proving herself to be "mad" as well. Their gazes harden, laced with disdain, making her visibly uncomfortable.
Sensing the tension, Fang Yuan steps in, his voice calm but firm. "Gu Xianer has really worked hard today. She is feeling tired. I will take her to my room and feed her there. Please excuse me."
His words are a shield, a protective barrier against their judgment. Seeing Fang Yuan's action, the aunt and uncle look at Fang Yuan with deep, dark eyes, as if predators sizing up their prey, ready to make it suffer mercilessly before delivering the final blow.
As they prepare to leave, Gu Xianer's face brightens, a small, fragile smile breaking through her tears. Fang Yuan's heart aches as he watches her, his resolve hardening. "Gu Xianer, take your plate. Let's go eat in our room quietly," he says gently, guiding her away from the suffocating atmosphere.
As they walk, a final phrase echoes in his mind, a solemn reminder of the shadows that words can cast:
Each cruel word fractures the soul. With every harsh echo, the fractures grow, Until even the gentlest touch feels like a crushing blow.
And with that, Fang Yuan vows to himself that he will be the light that chases away her shadows, no matter how deep they run.