A Peach Wood Comb

After Ouyang left, Lai Hui dared to look closely at Cheng Lan on the bed. Her face was swollen, with patches of ointment covering broken skin, her eyes black and swollen to slits, her right hand in a sling, her lips torn with raw flesh exposed. The sight was revolting! A delicate woman had been beaten into such a wretched state that Lai Hui was both furious and filled with compassion. Seeing that she was about to cry again, she quickly turned her back, rubbed her nose, and then sat down on the hospital bed. “Alan!” The slightly opened slit of her eyes revealed her battered lips moving, making a raspy sound. “Don’t ask how they beat me!” “No, I wasn’t going to ask, Alan, are there other injuries? I mean your legs!” Cheng Lan trembled with fear, and after a long moment, she said, “They’re broken!” Lai Hui could no longer hold back her tears, which fell freely as she gripped Cheng Lan’s only uninjured finger and cried, “Leave Ouyang, you don’t have to suffer like this for him. You can find a better job, why endure such humiliation?” A stream of clear tears flowed from the slit in her eyes, trickling to the back of her ear, her mangled lips trembling slightly. “I’d rather die than leave, at least not now. Even if it costs me my life, I won’t let her get away with this!” The finger Lai Hui was holding bent forcefully, leaving a burning mark in her palm. Cheng Lan’s voice rose sharply, sounding like a discordant flute, “Do you know? She hired five men to beat me. I passed out from the pain, and they broke my leg with a wooden stick while I was unconscious. I woke up in pain again, and she stepped on my face with her high heels. With such humiliation and pain, do you think I’d let her off?” Lai Hui shuddered in horror, her eyes wide as she looked at Cheng Lan. Through the slit, she saw not just tears, but hatred—a hatred deep enough to strip flesh from bone. She knew Cheng Lan was ruined; even if she left Ouyang, this traumatic experience would leave an indelible shadow on her life, and until death, she would hate that person. Perhaps, from this moment on, her life would be defined by hatred. Lai Hui didn’t know what Cheng Lan would do to retaliate, but knowing her fiery nature, which had changed much since falling in love with Ouyang, she might revert to her old self and do something foolish. Clutching her hand tightly despite the pain, Lai Hui trembled as she said, “Alan, don’t do anything foolish, promise me, don’t do anything foolish! Let Ouyang handle this, you just focus on healing, don’t overthink, okay?” Cheng Lan ignored her, her bruised eyes slowly closing like two black mandrakes of revenge, where her soul and blood were infused, nurturing a deep-seated hatred. Lai Hui’s heart went cold; any further words would be in vain. She could only grip Cheng Lan’s fingers with her sweaty palm, as if by doing so, Cheng Lan wouldn’t stray too far…