In the evening, when it was time to rest, Lu Weixi deliberately glanced at the windowsill. The window remained closed tightly, showing no signs of being disturbed. There was also a thin layer of dust on it—it was obvious that no one had climbed through in the last three days.
She looked down at her phone, Qin Zhiyou hadn't sent a single message or made a call, as if he had never been there.
Turning her head, Lu Weixi saw Qin Zhiyou's quilt and pillow, and suddenly felt a surge of inexplicable anger. Now, she wouldn't let herself get sick from frustration like she did during her pregnancy. Disgusted by Qin Zhiyou, she punched the quilt and pillow with her small fists, but it still didn't relieve her feelings. After thinking it over, she simply picked up the quilt and pillow and went out.
Outside, Lu Weixi's mother was heading to the restroom and was startled when she saw her daughter carrying the thick quilt, "What's wrong?"
