Shen Fangli was no fool. She almost immediately thought of the injury on Yan Xianjue's wrist.
"So that wound wasn't from a fight, was it?"
She should have realized it sooner. When Zhou Ye had been so secretive about it, she should have known something was wrong!
If it had merely been an ordinary fight, how could Zhou Ye have kept his mouth shut? His normal reaction would have been to loudly mock Yan Xianjue for being sickly as a child and losing a fight.
Sure enough, Mother Yan nodded. "That's right."
"But Xian Jue didn't try to kill himself."
Shen Fangli's eyes widened.
Mother Yan sighed. "In truth, we don't know what exactly happened in that little room. After all, the only person involved lost his memory."
"But there's no question that Xian Jue would never kill himself. He'd had a strong will to survive since he was little. He wasn't someone who would give up on life. Even though he was only four back then, I was certain of that."
Though she spoke those words, the sorrow in Mother Yan's eyes only deepened.
Tears glimmered at the corners of her eyes. "The kidnappers didn't leave him any food or water, so he slit his wrist and drank his own blood."
Mother Yan would never forget that scene. When the wooden hut was forcibly torn open, Xian Jue had been curled up in the corner with vacant eyes. His wrists bore cut after cut so deep that bone showed through, while the corner of her youngest son's mouth still held traces of undried blood.
Hearing the sound at the door, he turned his head. When their gazes met, Xian Jue had even smiled in relief.
Only after softly calling her "Mom" did he finally pass out without worry.
That