When Shiro asked, he reached out and touched a small scar on his neck.
That scar was left from the burn.
Although my aunt gave me some really good ointment, there were so many burns that there was still a small area where the ointment wasn't enough.
So he was left with scars.
Fortunately, it was on my neck, so as long as I didn't tilt my head back, no one could see it.
But every time he touched the scar, Shiro felt uncomfortable.
He had no liking for Xiao Zhoushi either.
"I don't hate."
An An lowered her head and thought for a moment before giving a decisive answer.
He did feel uncomfortable with that memory, and the thought still filled him with fear.
But he didn't hate his mother.
Perhaps, perhaps, he hated her at first, but he had only just returned when he learned of his mother's death, without even seeing her one last time...
In his heart, all that remained was his longing for his mother.
The longer time goes by, the stronger the longing becomes.
The resentment from back then has vanished without a trace.
“You have such a good temper. I can’t do that, I hate her,” Si Lang said frankly.
He hated Xiao Zhou.
Time and again, he and his family were put in danger.
Abandon him time and time again!
"...If my elder brother hadn't blocked that whip for me, you might not even be seeing me now..."
Actually, Aunt Chi had tried to ask him before, but Si Lang pretended not to know.
So the adults all thought he had forgotten.
After all, he was only three years old at the time.
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