Chapter 430: Zhu Qingyue's Second Kind of Life

The kitchen light was the sole source of illumination in the entire house.

But the impression this light gave off was different from usual: it was the ghastly pale color of a dead person's skin, casting its glow on the dismal, colorless cement white walls and marble floor.

...Perhaps there was no difference, the real disparity lay within the mood of the person involved.

Human memory is flawed, riddled with errors, as the brain automatically processes, transforms, and smears the scenes of reality into another state.

Just like now.

Zhu Qingyue was completely stiff, standing at the entrance of the kitchen, watching Mother mutter to herself while chopping vegetables at the sink. Thick layers of blood plasma covered the nearby tabletop and ceramic tile floor, flowing thickly along the edges.