Nan Wan reached out to hold Shen Zhimei's hand, her voice low like a whisper, "Your husband is my brother, and I caused this. If... if it weren't for me, Third Brother would not have been in trouble."
Although Shen Zhimei had never heard Nan Wan speak like this before, the mutual understanding they had built over the years only required a glance to know what the other was thinking. So she knew that Nan Wan had always been trapped in this curse, unable to escape, even though she had never mentioned it.
Gripping the unforgettable hand in return, she turned her head to look at her, her ink-like brows and eyes exuding gentleness and warmth, "I have never blamed you, and neither would Third Brother."
Both of their hands were cold, but when held together, they could produce a sense of warmth.
Nan Wan leaned on Shen Zhimei's shoulder, watching Jiashu laughing innocently in the distance, her voice still very low, "I know."
