Chapter 68 Lin Wanyun's Hatred
After Lin Jiaojiao's death, Lin Wanyun seemed to have lost her backbone overnight.
She is still alive, breathing, mechanically completing her daily tasks.
She cleaned, washed, and disposed of the blood-stained clothes and equipment. But her eyes, which once held a hint of calculation and ingratiation, were now filled with a lifeless, desolate grayness.
She no longer bothered to dress herself up; her hair was casually tied up, revealing dry ends and a noticeable increase in gray. Her cheeks were sunken, making her once gentle features stand out, yet they also exuded a lingering, heavy sense of age.
My daughter is dead.
In this cold and cruel apocalypse, her only blood tie, her last hope, and her emotional anchor were gone.
An immense grief gnawed at her heart day and night, like a leech clinging to her bones.
In the dead of night, she would often hug an old piece of clothing left by her daughter, bury her face in it, and weep silently, her shoulders trembling violently, but she dared not make a sound, for fear of attracting the annoyance and ridicule of others.
Should we really make her die for her daughter?
This thought would occasionally creep into her mind like a venomous snake, but it was quickly suppressed by her stronger will to survive deep within her.
No, she didn't want to die.
She was afraid of death. Afraid of the pain of being torn apart by zombies, afraid of the darkness, afraid of utter annihilation. She had been selfish her whole life, and now, in her old age, struggling to survive in this apocalypse, her deep-seated fear of death far exceeded the limits of what she could give for her daughter.
She can feel grief, she can feel despair, but she can't bring herself to pick up a knife or step out of the base.
This realization that she could not die for her country only deepened her self-loathing and pain, causing her to sink deeper and deeper into the quagmire of despair.
The surrounding environment pushed her further into the abyss.
Having lost her daughter, and the meager protection that Lei Bao had offered them out of pity because Lin Jiaojiao was young and vibrant, Lin Wanyun's status in the small building plummeted.
She was reduced to the lowest level of servant, even worse off.
Those women who depended on Lei Bao, who might have been superficially polite to him before because of his attitude, have now completely torn off their masks.
"Lin Wanyun! Where have you been? Can't you see how dirty the floor is? Clean it again!"
"Hey, old man, clean my boots. They're covered in blood and disgusting."
"Why is the food so bad today? Are you doing this on purpose? Do you think it's like before?"
He was bossy, sarcastic, and even deliberately splashed dirty water on the floor she had just cleaned.
Lin Wanyun always kept her head down, silently enduring it all. Her calloused and aged hands gripped the mop or rag tightly, her knuckles turning white from the excessive force.
She never argued back, but beneath her lowered eyelids, in the depths of deathly silence, a crimson flame called hatred began to ignite quietly, and burned ever brighter.
She hates it!
She hated Lei Bao's cold-bloodedness; he had personally abandoned her daughter, slapped her, and utterly shattered her dignity!
I hate these women for kicking me when I'm down, for their meanness and cruelty!
I hate this damn apocalypse! I hate everyone who lives a better life than her!
This hatred, like a poisonous vine growing in the dark, coiled around her heart, draining her last bit of life force and sanity, growing wildly.
She continued working numbly, still shedding tears for her daughter in deserted corners. But if someone could look into her heart at this moment, they would find that it was no longer just sadness and despair, but also brewing a storm capable of burning everything.
She didn't know what she could do; she was just an ordinary old woman without any special abilities. But this burning hatred allowed her to hide a heart on the verge of madness, ready to explode at any moment, beneath her zombie-like exterior.
She waited, like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows. Though old and weak, her venomous gaze was fixed on the enemies who had brought her to this predicament.
Ruan Ning's spiritual power spread silently, penetrating the three-story building and precisely enveloping Lin Wanyun.
She "saw" Lin Wanyun wiping the floor mechanically, like a puppet without its strings.
She "heard" a suppressed sob escaping from the depths of her throat in the still of the night, like the mournful cry of a wounded mother beast.
She could "feel" the uncontrollable, subtle yet intense trembling of those calloused hands as they washed the clothes.
And beneath that stagnant despair, surging and churning like magma from the earth, almost bursting forth—hatred.
That hatred felt so familiar.
Scorching, viscous, and with an impulse to destroy everything, it wanted nothing more than to burn the hated person and this unjust world to ashes.
Once upon a time, she had just crawled back from the abyss of death, and the moment she opened her eyes, her chest was filled with this kind of bone-deep, heart-wrenching hatred. It sustained her to live, sustained her to become stronger, and sustained her to plot step by step, pushing her enemy into hell.
And now, Lin Wanyun has finally tasted this feeling.
Having lost their only child, their dignity trampled upon, and their hopes utterly shattered, they could only suffer in the flames of hatred, yet were forced to continue clinging to life out of fear of death.
This struggle between wanting to die and being unable to live, this agony of having one's soul scorched day and night by hatred...
very good.
Ruan Ning's mental strength acted like the most detached observer, recording every painful look in Lin Wanyun's eyes, every suppressed tremor, and every bit of darkness growing in despair.
Lin Wanyun finally understood everything she had gone through.
The flame in Lin Wanyun's heart was ignited by Ruan Ning himself, who was happy to see it spread like wildfire.
Ruan Ning slowly withdrew her mental energy, and a hint of almost cruel satisfaction rose from the depths of her cold consciousness.
Suffer, resent, struggle.
Just like I was back then.
This is just the beginning. What you inflicted on me, what you and your daughter once took pleasure in, I will make you... taste a hundredfold.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com