So now, every time she saw him, she had to swallow her feelings.
The more she held it in, the angrier she became.
"Haven't you said enough?!"
The argument ended with a smashed bowl, porcelain shards littering the floor.
They ignored each other and turned away. One went into the bedroom; the other stormed out, slamming the door.
In the heat of their vicious argument, they both forgot.
A small figure was cowering behind the sofa in the corner of the living room.
Their daughter, Cao Jiajia, was huddled in the corner, silently watching it all unfold.
From that day on, she grew quieter and quieter, rarely even smiling.
Meanwhile, Ling Anxun was already rushing to the most dangerous front line.
The night was ink-black and the wind howled as he stood in the back of a military truck.
The moment he arrived, he charged into the most chaotic, heavily bombarded sector.
