He only wanted that, if one day he lost her, if one day she was no longer by his side, he would have something connected to her to remember her by, something that would make the pain and despair a little easier to bear.
He only wanted to remember that there had once been a girl who had burst into his world like an elf.
She had spent a night with him in the dark, freezing Underground Room, accompanied him to the mountains to sketch, and painted with him.
She had bought him breakfast and lunch, taken him home, and let him experience a different kind of familial warmth.
He only wanted to keep this tiny bit of feeble light and faint warmth that belonged solely to him. Why couldn't she grant him that?
Just as Jiang Yihan was grieving, the whip struck his back like a shadow that followed him everywhere, accompanied by the familiar abuse that had already left him numb.
"Are you going to talk or not? Are you going to talk?"
"You useless piece of trash! I was wondering how your grades had fallen so quickly. So it turns out you've started fooling around with women outside, just like your shameless father."
"You useless piece of trash! Why won't you learn anything good? Why did you have to take after that animal?"
The more Jiang Meng cursed, the angrier she became. In the end, she flung the whip aside, snatched the painting from his hands, and began tearing it apart frantically.
"Painting, painting, painting! I told you to paint! I told you to paint!"
"All day long, all you know is imitating that damned animal and painting this garbage. Sooner or later, you'll run off with some other woman too.
"If I'd known this would happen,