"Qingran, don't leave, I'm scared," Mrs. Sang cried out, inconsolable, as she wiped the mud off the teddy bear over and over, with those frightening images she feared filling her head.
She felt sorry for Qiaoqiao, sorry for her child; Sang Zheng's indifference had clouded her judgment.
She had taken out her own pain and misfortune on the child, she really wasn't worth anything.
"You prefer Sang Jiao the most, don't you? Let her keep you company!"
"I was wrong, I truly realize my mistake now. I was deceived by the Master. I like Qiaoqiao, I and Mom even talked about buying her lots of pretty dresses in the past, turning her into a Little Princess. But after Mom passed away, I no longer had a pillar of support in that house, no one to keep me company or guide me."
Everything Mrs. Sang said seemed like a casting away of her innermost feelings; she was just too scared.
