A Yin parted her lips, her eyelashes, as if having been pinched, flickering; in the end, she didn't say anything. Her mind involuntarily passed over the past half lifetime, from the helplessness of her chin being pinched by an old female servant in the firewood shack, to trembling with fear the first time she'd descended into a tomb, to the long desolation and emptiness after the first time she'd spent time with a man; these things which tormented her were now easily separated. A high mountain rose in her life, which had been full of potholes, A Luo here, and the suffering there. She really wished she could be a bit more pure, and steadily and steadfastly receive this fondness of A Luo's. She lowered her head, her sharp face not arrogant, nor brash, only pressing her lips together and drawing in a couple breaths, her hand twisting strands of hair that she didn't know when she'd grasped. She was somewhat unwell; she felt that she herself had grown a not very heal...