When she left, she didn't take anything with her. She wasn't deliberately leaving things for him to look at and reminisce; he knew she found it troublesome. She's always been like that since she was young. Even when traveling, she'd never bring more than necessary. Though he would verbally complain about her not tidying up, deep down, he wasn't bothered at all.
But now, everything was gone.
No matter how turbulent or angry he felt inside, he couldn't let it show or act on it.
Feng Fanghua was downstairs drinking tea, waiting for him to come down to confront her, but he never came.
However, for some reason, she couldn't stop her eyes from becoming a bit moist.
Feng Fanghua knew she had pushed him too far and hurt him. He could endure it, but that didn't mean he wasn't affected.
A mother wielding a knife against her own son — Feng Fanghua finally couldn't hold back, tears streaming down her face as she sighed heavily while sitting there, then went upstairs.
