"Does it hurt?" Lu Zhiwei asked her through gritted teeth. "The pain of losing a loved one is this kind of pain, or even more painful."

Song Anran's weak body trembled violently, her pale face turning bluish-purple: "If you have the guts, then kill me! Didn't you want revenge? Come on!"

Having no attachment to this world, Song Anran raised her neck, letting Lu Zhiwei do as she pleased.

When she was Shen Shuyuan, her biggest obsession was to be with Shen Jinmo, but in the end, her dream was shattered and she faked her death to escape.

When she was Song Anran, her biggest obsession was to make everyone suffer.

But in the end, she kept losing.

She lost her beloved brother.

He lost his only chance to shine in the art world and defeat Lu Zhiwei.

She also lost the child she had given birth to with great difficulty.

Now, whenever she thinks of this child, it reminds her of the foolish past when she was schemed against and deceived.

"Do you really think I wouldn't dare kill you?" Lu Zhiwei released Song Anran and forcefully pushed her onto the bed.

He picked up the knife from the ground and held it to her neck.

The knife was embedded in his neck.

The sharp blade instantly drew a thin line of blood.

If her major artery is severed, she will bleed profusely and eventually die here.

It rotted and stinked in this dimly lit basement.

Song Anran lay there calmly, without struggling at all, and slowly closed her eyes.

"Take my life, for your grandmother, for Old Madam Shen, and for your brother. If my life isn't enough, go to the hospital and find my newborn bastard!"