```
"..."
"She used a porcelain shard to slash violently, over and over."
"..."
"Her skin split open, blood and flesh blurred together."
Mu Jingxi grasped her wrist, pulling with force, and yanked her into his embrace, "Enough, stop talking."
"I did all this, and you are not angry?"
Qiao An's body stiffened, motionless in his arms.
She asked in such a cold, clear manner, as if Ji Qingxin were someone so important to him.
All Mu Jingxi felt was heartache, heartache for her. At a time when her psychological defenses were so fragile, Ji Qingxin still recklessly provoked her.
It was undoubtedly self-destructive.
It was better this way, allowing her an outlet for her pent-up emotions rather than brewing illness from keeping everything inside.
Mu Jingxi held her, one hand gently stroking her back, "Qiao An, this is home. Home isn't about reasoning, I just want to talk about love with you."
Qiao An's hands that hung at her sides slowly lifted to hug his lean waist.