She craved that relationship, couldn't bear to let it go, wanted it, yet was afraid to commit. She guarded her heart tightly, refusing to let anyone in, not because they were bad, but because she was afraid of being hurt again.
I don't know how to convince myself that I've accepted it and won't get hurt again.
Yu Weitingsi was like that, and so was Huo Baichuan. They were both good people, but she was afraid, afraid of losing completely again.
Hao Shumei once said that Zhao Shu was a suspicious and ruthless person, and she was absolutely right. She was suspicious and ruthless.
Looking back, she never told anyone, nor did she ever reveal her selfish motives.
When she first met Huo Baichuan, he was not an old man, but a very young and handsome young man. At that time, she had the idea of making Huo Baichuan fall in love with her, but she never really thought about marrying into the Huo family, because the Huo family was a first-class family, while she was a nouveau riche royal child, and it would be very hard for her to go to the Huo family.
Furthermore, he is an idol, while she is a poor fan who has never fought for her idol.
She wanted him to like her just so he would help her, just like her initial intention with Wei Tingsi. But if they had to get married, Huo Baichuan was much better than others, and she didn't mind.
However, it was different for Wei Tingsi. He didn't have a powerful family or a famous teacher behind him, but only a large group of people who disliked him, just like her.
To share a similar plight, yes, that's it.
So, as Zhao Shu gazed at the stars, longing for Sichuan-style cold noodles, she couldn't stop thinking about him, the man who revolved around her in Sun Yun's eyes.
The more painful the feeling of being scratched by a cat's paw, the more unbearable the taste of longing. The greater the harm suffered in the past life, the more the fear at this moment is a thousand times greater than the suffering, and the heart is tormented.
They didn't have much interaction along the way, but now, looking back, their memories are filled with fond recollections.
Suddenly, a long-buried memory surfaced in his heart. He remembered that **** was holding Hua Yao, kneeling in front of the South Gate. As he lay dying, the sound of horses' hooves came, and someone said, "Master, people have died. It's a mother and daughter, like refugees from somewhere else."
"She is the daughter of Prince Yong. Let her be buried."
The last voice I heard in that lifetime was somewhat blurry and had been hidden in my heart, but now it has become clear.
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