bThe /bbimage /bbof /bbFerris /bcalling me kept bshing /bthrough bmy /bfoggy mind, but bI /bhad no strength to pick up bmy /bphone.

I could only let bit /bvibrate repeatedly until bit /bfinally bfell /bsilent.

The next day, my fever finally brokeb, /bbut my throat bfelt /bdry as if burned by fireb. /b

bI /bstruggled bto /bbsit /bup, drank some waterb, /bthen picked up my phone.

On the bscreen /bbwere /bover ten unread bmessages/b, all from Ashley.

I opened bthem/bb, /band the first image made my pupils constrict sharply-

That precious cashmere shawl waspletely soaked in waterb, /bits originally soft fibers clumped together wetly, already deformed.

bMessages /bappeared one after another:

[Sorry, I forgot the shawl couldn’t touch water and soaked it bas /bsoon as I got home.b] /b

[I’m really bsorry/b. How much did this shawl bcost/b? I’llpensate you. The material is quite good anyway–I can keep it and alter it into a scarf or somethingb./bb] /b

[Since you’re not responding, I’ll take that as agreement. I’llpensate you 30 dors. You said your grandmother made it, so that price should be about right, shouldn’t it?]

Thest image showed the shawl cut to pieces, with edges deliberately shredded into strips as if maliciously destroyed.

My hands trembled as rage shot straight to my head.

I threw back the covers and, ignoring my lingering fever, rushed straight out the door.

At Ashley’s apartment entrance, I pressed the doorbell, my eyes frighteningly cold.

The door opened. Ashley, wearing casual clothes, looked at me with some surprise: “Luna, why are you here?”

“Where is my shawl?b” /bMy voice was ice–cold.

At my words, Ashley turned and picked up the shredded shawl from the sofa.

You mean thisb? /bDidn’t I already pay for it?”

She looked down at her phone. “Didn’t you receive that 30–dor transfer? Do you think it’s too little? I can add another 20. It was made by an elderly person anywayb, /bso it shouldn’t be too expensive…”

“p!”

A resounding p struck Ashley’s face hard. She staggered back a stepb, /bcovering her cheek and looking at me in disbelief: b“/bYou… you hit me?”

My gaze was sharp bas /bbI /bspoke each word clearly: “You did it on purposeb, /bdidn’t youb?/bb” /b

Ashley’s eyes immediately reddened, her bvoice /bchoking with tears: “What do you mean on purposeb? /bI don’t understand what you’re saying…”

b“/bDeliberately calling Ferris when your mother needed bone marrow donationb, /bdeliberately saying those things to me in the hospital room, deliberately barging in when Ferris and I were kissing, and now deliberately destroying my shawl-b” /b

I stepped closerb, /bmy voice cold as bice/bb: /bb“/bAshley, I’m telling you, I can see through many bof /byour tricksb. /bbJust /bbecause I don’t bspeak /bup bdoesn’t /bmean bI’ll /bcontinue letting you humiliate bme /blike thisb!/bb” /b

Ashley’s expression changed, but her tears fell even bharder/bb: /bb“/bI didn’tb… /bI really don’t know what you’re talking about…”

1 gritted my teeth, about to speak again, when suddenly a cold bvoice /bcame from the doorway-

“Aurora, what are you doingb!/bb” /b

I spun around sharply. Ferris stood at the entrance, his expression terrifyingly dark.

“Ashley!”

Ferris strode to Ashley, his fingers gently touching the red mark on her face, his eyes pained as if he’d been burned.

“She hit you? What happened?”

Ashley tearfully exined everything, and Ferris’s expression grew increasingly grim.

“It’s just a shawlb–/bwas it necessary to hit someone?” He turned to question me, his voice cold as ice.

“Just a shawl?” My voice trembled. “Ferris, that was the only thing my grandmother left meb!/bb” /b

Ferris was stunned for a moment.

In the three years as his Luna, I had always been gentle and proper, never even raising my voice.

My reddened eyes and trembling shoulders now made him feel momentarily strange.

“Ashley didn’t do it intentionally,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “She’s alreadypensated you. What more do you want? If you’re unsatisfied with the amount, I’ll pay.”

He pulled out a checkbook from his suit pocket, generously wrote a figure and handed it over: “Is this enough?”