Originally, Fang Zhou had stumbled upon the diary by accident, but under Qiao Sisi’s gaze, it felt like he had intentionally taken it to peek at her privacy.
He cleared his throat softly and placed the diary back on the shelf.
His eyes darted around before finally settling on the door, deciding to change the subject.
“Since you’re awake, could you open the door for ? I’d like to leave.”
“What’s the hurry? Stay with a little longer.”
Qiao Sisi, naturally, wasn’t going to let him go. She chuckled lightly, walked into the study, and stopped in front of the bookshelf.
She reached out and gently took out the diary disguised as “The Count of Monte Cristo.” Her eyes lingered on it for a mont before slowly opening its pages.
“Which page did you see? Was it from 2012, or earlier in 2011? Or maybe from the first year I started writing, 2010?”
Qiao Sisi widened her eyes, asking Fang Zhou like a curious child.
Her tone was relaxed and natural, as if she were asking about the weather, not her personal diary.
Fang Zhou could only marvel at her acting skills.
Most people would panic if their diary was read, especially one filled with such unusual content. But Qiao Sisi remained so calm and composed, which made Fang Zhou even more anxious.
Great, I’ve seen her secrets. Is she going to kill now?
He had heard that cats have nine lives. Was it too late to borrow one from Li Siming’s cat?
“I didn’t see anything. I just thought the cover was interesting.”
Fang Zhou decided to tough it out, sticking to a firm denial.
As long as I don’t admit it, it’s like I never saw it.
“Is that so? Since you didn’t see it, I don’t mind reading it to you.”
Qiao Sisi’s voice, still a bit hoarse from sleep, gradually grew clearer and more resonant.
Her powerful voice echoed in the study, filled with emotion, like she was performing a monologue.
“August 30, 2011. Today, my mom’s hand was cut by my dad. She didn’t want to go to the hospital for stitches, so she had buy so dicine from the pharmacy.
I think mom must have been in a lot of pain. It was such a deep cut, but she didn’t say a word, not even a cry. Is mom a superhero? Does she really not feel pain...”
“Enough, stop reading!”
Fang Zhou couldn’t hold back and interrupted her loudly.
He had already said he didn’t want to hear it earlier, but Qiao Sisi had ignored him.
It wasn’t until she read her diary in an eerily calm tone that Fang Zhou realized sothing was wrong with her.
Who can read their own diary so calmly, especially one filled with cruel mories?
Why is she so nonchalant?
If her mother was cut by her father, that would an her dad was a violent man.
Fang Zhou couldn’t imagine the psychological scars Qiao Sisi must have from growing up in such a household.
No wonder she turned into a yandere; her original family environnt had deeply impacted her.
Qiao Sisi looked back at Fang Zhou with an innocent face, full of confusion.
“Didn’t you want to read it earlier? Now I’m reading it to you. Why are you feeling burdened?”
I’m willing to lay bare my past for you to see.
To let you understand how I crawled out of the mud to stand before you.
And to make you realize that once you’ve involved yourself with , it’s not so easy to leave.
Fang Zhou wasn’t feeling guilty, just that hearing these words from her made it seem too cruel.
Like peeling back the scabs on her wounds, exposing the raw flesh beneath, and then casually telling him, “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt. See, I’m not crying.”
Moreover, at that mont, Fang Zhou realized that Qiao Sisi’s family situation was more complicated than he thought.
Even if he knew about her past, it wouldn’t change her yandere nature.
In fact, it might drag him into her ss.
He had more important things to do now and might not be able to beco soone else’s beacon of light.
So Fang Zhou stopped her.
“The past is the past. Look forward and don’t dwell on it.”
Fang Zhou could only co up with this dry consolation for Qiao Sisi.
After all, no one can truly empathize with soone else’s experiences unless they’ve gone through the exact sa thing.
Otherwise, it’s just superficial and glossing over the pain.
Qiao Sisi closed the diary and placed it on the table.
She then found a chair, sat down, crossed her left leg over her right, and leaned back, looking very relaxed.
“Yes, it’s because it’s the past that I’m willing to let you see it.
No one else knows about this diary. You’re the second person. Are you sure you don’t want to read more?”
Her eyes glead with a hint of mischief, her calm face showing no resentnt.
Nor did she seem tortured by painful mories stirred up by the diary.
Sothing was definitely off.
Fang Zhou’s heart tightened, wondering if she was plotting sothing big.
In that instant, countless bloody scenarios flashed through his mind.
He shook his head, trying to dispel those thoughts, then looked at Qiao Sisi and seriously replied, “It’s good that you’ve moved on.”
“But I still think I’m not the right person to read it.”
This was his way of saying he didn’t want to know about her past.
Unexpectedly, their interactions were like an inverse law: the more he resisted, the more she persisted.
The more Fang Zhou refused, the more Qiao Sisi’s rebellious streak flared up. She was determined to tell him everything.
“If you don’t want to read, I can just tell you.”
Qiao Sisi crossed her hands, fingers resting on her knee, and softly began recounting her past.
“My dad was a man with a terrible temper. Ever since I can rember, our ho was always in chaos.
My mom was very beautiful, known far and wide, but she rarely had an unscarred patch of skin.
Our house always slled of alcohol, a stench my mom couldn’t ever clean away.
Because of my dad, the alcoholic, she couldn’t get rid of it.”
As she spoke, Qiao Sisi’s eyes curved, as if recalling sothing amusing.
“But it doesn’t matter; what my mom couldn’t drive away, left on its own.”
“When I was 14, my dad died, and our ho finally beca quiet. I preferred it that way.”
Qiao Sisi suddenly shifted her gaze to Fang Zhou, her eyes bright with excitent. “Our future ho should also be peaceful and quiet, don’t you think?”
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