Hua Jing's lips curved faintly. She knew her sister well. Hua Ling loved to be fawned over. She thrived on adoration, on the empty praises of sycophants. But Lin Qian was not that kind of woman. She had never been the type to bow her head and lick someone's boots for favor. Her bluntness, her refusal to cater to others' egos, had always put her at odds with someone like Hua Ling.
And Hua Ling's demeanor… it had long since grated on Hua Jing's nerves too.
Her mind flickered back to a moment before the accident—a memory etched into her like a scar. Lin Qian had once turned to her in exasperation, blunt as always, and asked, Why do you keep that snake so close to you? The "snake," of course, had been Hua Ling.
Lin Qian had said it right in front of Hua Ling's face. Without hesitation. Without fear.
