Deep in her eyes, Wen Rou hid a trace of pity for Su Li, thinking she had concealed it well, but she hadn't realized that Su Li had long seen through her heart.
Thinking of the woman across from her, though beautiful, as an ancient woman, she couldn't escape the traits assigned by this deformed society: obey the father at home, the husband after marriage, and the son when the husband died.
Her entire life seemed predictable to the end, utterly dull. What use was there in being beautiful if she couldn't make decisions for herself—look, even the significant matter of marriage was decided by others.
Whenever Wen Rou thought of these things, a rush of exhilaration surged within her, accompanied by a strong sense of superiority as she casually dismissed the displeasure stemming from being ignored by the other.
She was just a pitiful woman bound by feudal society.
