Cheng Yu stared at Shen Meng’s face—a face so familiar and yet so loathsome—her fingernails digging deep into her palms. The humiliations of her past life surged back like a tide: the frame-up for stealing grain, the punishment of kneeling in the snow until she fainted, the schemes that cost her the hard-won opportunity to return to the city, and finally, dying alone in a foreign land. Every scene burned into her nerves.
At this moment, the sinister smirk on Shen Meng’s lips was exactly as she remembered it.
As for the young woman standing before her, Cheng Yu didn't know her, but it was clear that her words were pointed and accusatory. To be labeled in such a way, if it stuck, would be a serious matter.
Chapter 61