From that day on, Su Ming'an finally found the answer to that question.
The way Mom expresses love is to die.
It turns out, the meaning of "love" is...
To die.
...
"...Ms. Lin."
In the woods, that woman still smiled at him, her smile warm yet hoarse, her white chiffon dress fluttering in the night, like the free young woman she once was.
He couldn't forgive her for the abuse but could understand her pain. So to this day, he still didn't want to face her. Neither forgiving nor confronting.
She laughed, like a piano key about to break.
"Haha, hahaha..."
At this moment, he heard faint footsteps approaching from behind, Fu Wenwen burning paper was getting closer, and a chill crept over his neck. Su Ming'an stared at Lin Wang'an, knowing this was a pincer attack...
"...Is it you?"
At this moment, a call rang out in the open.
