Xia Wan was puzzled. She put down her chopsticks and got up to open the door. With each step she took, her doubts grew stronger. She wondered to herself who was in such a hurry and so recklessly broke the peace and tranquility of the afternoon.
Her pace quickened unconsciously, her heart began to pound, and she had a vague premonition of something bad, as if she were about to face an unavoidable storm.
As soon as the door opened, Wu Zhaodi was seen standing in the doorway, her face flushed red, as red as a ripe tomato about to burst open, the color of which seemed to drip blood, a shocking sight.
Her forehead was covered in sweat, which shimmered under the strong sunlight like tiny, carefully crafted pearls, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto the ground beneath her feet, disappearing instantly.
Her hair was also a bit messy, with a few strands soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to her face, making her look particularly disheveled, as if she had just gone through a fierce battle.
He looked furious, like a volcano about to erupt, radiating a fierce aura that made people hesitate to approach, an aura that seemed capable of igniting the surrounding air.
Her chest heaved violently as she gasped for breath, as if she had just finished a long and arduous marathon. Each breath was heavy and labored, as if she were about to unleash the fury within her. Or perhaps she had just experienced a thrilling and heated argument, and her emotions were still running high, unable to calm down, with flames of anger flashing in her eyes.
Before Xia Wan could even speak, Wu Zhaodi, like an enraged lioness, suddenly opened her blood-red maw and loudly accused, "Xia Wan, why didn't you take me with you when you went to Beijing? Huh? Do you even acknowledge me as your mother anymore?!"
Her voice was sharp and piercing, like an extremely sharp knife, instantly shattering the afternoon tranquility. The sound echoed continuously in the courtyard, the sound waves hitting the surrounding walls and making a buzzing echo, which made Xia Wan's eardrums ache slightly.
The neighbors were so surprised that they couldn't help but peek out. Some cautiously poked their heads out of the windows, their eyes full of curiosity and doubt, as if they were searching for a mysterious treasure, not missing a single detail.
Some people opened the door and stood there, staring intently at the sudden bustling scene, trying to find out what was going on. Their faces were full of curiosity, and they whispered among themselves. Although their voices were soft, they were particularly clear in the quiet afternoon.
Xia Wan looked at her with a bewildered expression, her eyes full of doubt and incomprehension, as if she were looking at a stranger who had fallen from the sky and was being unreasonable.
She then said coldly, "Of course I won't acknowledge her. Didn't you divorce my father and remarry? You never raised me from childhood to adulthood, so what face do you have to acknowledge your daughter now?"
Xia Wan spoke without any politeness, her eyes filled with disgust as she looked at Wu Zhaodi. The lack of maternal love from childhood, the days when she was neglected and ignored by her mother, were like shocking scars, deeply etched in her heart.
The grievances and pain she had endured over the years left her with no sense of closeness to her mother. Instead, she felt nothing but resentment, which, like a seed buried deep in her heart, took root and sprouted over the years, growing into a towering tree.
Those birthdays forgotten by her mother, the helplessness of going to the hospital alone when she was sick, the embarrassment of being mocked by classmates for not having a mother—all these memories flooded her mind at this moment, making her tone even colder, each word seemingly carrying frost.
Wu Zhaodi was speechless after hearing these words. Her face turned pale and red in turns, like colors randomly mixed in a chaotic palette, full of embarrassment and awkwardness.
Her lips trembled slightly, wanting to refute, but unable to find the right words. She could only stand there, at a loss, her hands unconsciously clutching the hem of her clothes, a hint of panic in her eyes.
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