When Xia Mengrui's bloodshot eyes met Xia Lihua's, disbelief flickered across her battered features. For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating—a cruel trick of her tormented mind.
How could Xia Lihua be here…?
Xia Mengrui blinked slowly, disoriented. Her head lolled to the side, and she squinted through the haze of pain clouding her vision. "Lihua…?" Her voice was hoarse and broken, like she hadn't spoken in months—or perhaps longer.
The acrid stench of damp stone, rusting metal, and stale blood made Xia Lihua's stomach churn. She fought the rising nausea as she took a shaky step forward. Her mind reeled with a thousand unanswered questions. "How did you end up here?"
Xia Mengrui let out a harsh, broken laugh, sounding as though she had just heard a cruel joke. "Why don't you ask that question to your beloved Lingyun dage?"
