Zhou Jing, caught in the chaos, felt like a drowning person struggling in the vast, deep sea, desperately trying to calm herself. Her chest heaved violently, like a broken bellows struggling to operate. She took a deep, forceful breath, the air rapid and heavy, hissing as if she were greedily drawing in all the thin, oppressive, almost stagnant air in the room, attempting to steady her trembling hands.
Her fingertips were slightly white, and her knuckles protruded abruptly from the excessive force, like jagged hills. Even so, the trembling was like a surging undercurrent, churning beneath her skin, uncontrollable, as if telling of the deep fear in her heart.
Just then, Xia Wan and Xia Shuqin's seemingly casual yet meaningful glances met, like a mysterious and powerful electric current, instantly striking the unease deep within her heart.
This unease was like being injected with an expansion agent, growing infinitely at an astonishing speed, like an inflating balloon.
Her heart began to pound uncontrollably, each beat like a war drum pounding violently in her chest, producing a dull and rapid "thump-thump" sound that echoed in the silent room, making her whole body tremble slightly, and her teeth chattered softly.
Cold sweat seeped from her back, initially only wetting a small patch of clothing and forming a dark stain, like a stain spreading quietly in the darkness. But in the blink of an eye, the cold sweat spread rapidly like a flood bursting its banks, soaking large areas of her clothes.
Her clothes clung tightly to her back, feeling chilly, as if countless icy hands were gently caressing her. Each touch sent a chill down her spine, adding to her fear, as if she were in an ice cellar, with coldness attacking from all directions.
She instinctively took a step back, the soles of her shoes scraping against the dusty floor with a sharp, piercing sound. The "squeak" was particularly jarring in the quiet room, like the mournful wail of an old bellows, or perhaps a manifestation of her inner turmoil.
When she spoke, her voice trembled slightly, a tremor that made each word sound like a candle flame flickering in the wind, as if it might go out at any moment.
She feigned composure and said, "What's wrong with you all? Why are you all looking at me like that? I'm just a little tired."
To make her words sound more convincing, she forced a smile, her lips turning upwards with difficulty. The smile seemed to be squeezed out, and against the backdrop of her trembling lips and her panicked, terrified eyes, it appeared extremely forced, like a fragile piece of paper that could be blown to shreds by the storm of fear at any moment.
Behind that smile was a facade she was desperately trying to maintain, but her trembling limbs and panicked eyes had already revealed her fear.
Xia Wan was not fooled by her disguise. She walked into the room with light yet steady steps, her posture elegant and composed, like a nimble little deer. Every step seemed to step on Zhou Jing's increasingly tense nerves.
As she walked, she said, "Aunt, if you're tired, take a good rest. Don't push yourself too hard. But lately I've been hearing people say that some things can be kept secret for a while, but not forever."
Her words seemed casual, like chatting with an elder, her tone gentle and soothing, with a hint of a smile, yet they were like a spell with hidden meaning, each word carrying an invisible power that struck Zhou Jing's heart with unerring precision.
The sound, neither loud nor soft, was exceptionally clear in the almost deathly silent room, like a series of sharp little hammers, clanging and banging, rhythmically striking Zhou Jing's psychological defenses, making them teeter on the brink of collapse under this continuous assault.
Xia Wan's gaze was firm and sharp, as if she could see through all of Zhou Jing's pretenses. Every word she spoke was like a key, trying to open the tightly closed door deep in Zhou Jing's heart.
Xia Shuqin also stepped forward, her eyes like a sharp, gleaming sword, locking onto Zhou Jing, making her feel as if she were under a spotlight, every subtle change in her expression exposed. "Yes, Shuhua, if anything happens, just tell us, don't bear it all alone."
Her tone, besides feigned concern, carried an undeniable sense of pressure.
The oppressive feeling was tangible, transforming into an invisible giant hand that pressed Zhou Jing down tightly, making her feel as if her body was imprisoned in a small cage, unable to move, and even breathing became difficult, each inhale feeling like dragging heavy shackles.
Xia Shuqin slightly raised her chin, her eyes revealing a kind of majesty, as if declaring to Zhou Jing that her disguise could not be hidden under those eyes.
Zhou Jing felt her scalp tingling, and the dizziness became increasingly intense, as if the whole world was spinning around her, and her body was completely out of her control.
Her hands flailed wildly in the air, her fingers scratching frantically, trying to grab onto something to steady herself, but all around her was empty. She could only grasp a handful of cold air, which seemed to carry a bone-chilling cold that spread from her fingertips to her entire body.
At the same time, some blurry images began to appear in her mind. These were Xia Shuhua's memories, like a surging, unstoppable tide, gradually breaking through the defenses she had built with her consciousness.
Those strange yet familiar scenes, faces, and sounds kept appearing. Some were lively family gatherings, with relatives sitting together, their laughter echoing in her ears. Yet, the warm atmosphere pierced her heart like needles.
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