His voice was soft, but like a blunt knife, slowly dissecting something.
"Morphine was her salvation, but also her abyss. It allowed her to temporarily forget her pain and gain a moment of peace, but the price was her personality, her dignity, everything she had. In the end, she just... died in a hurry."
The air inside the car seemed to freeze.
This story, like his aura at the moment, is filled with an undertone of despair.
"I haven't seen the movie," Yu Bai said calmly, breaking the silence. "But I've read the original script by Eugene O'Neill."
Jiang Zhou's body stiffened slightly, he turned his head, and his dark pupils locked onto her in the darkness.
Yu Bai met his gaze without dodging and went straight to the point:
"Mr. Jiang, what do you mean by bringing up this story?"
Her directness, like a sharp scalpel, instantly pierced through the fragile protective film he had woven with stories.
Jiang Zhou looked at her and suddenly chuckled softly, with a hint of self-mockery and relief in his laughter.
He stopped beating around in circles.
"I have a cousin named Jiang Yuan."
"Spinal spasm, a rare neurological disease. When it strikes, muscles all over the body will spasm and tear uncontrollably. The pain is no less than torture."
"The only thing that could free him from the torture was morphine."
"This morning, he fell ill. I put your ring on his finger."
Jiang Zhou paused, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Five minutes, just five minutes, and he returned from hell to earth. But that ring..."
He held out his hand and opened his palm.
"The energy is exhausted."
He withdrew his hand, and his eyes became sharp as a knife again, looking straight at Yu Bai, with a complex look that was a mixture of request and transaction.
"Miss Yu," he said, his voice so deep it could drip water, "I want to buy this kind of ring from you."
"Name your price."
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