Yang Peiyun lowered her eyes, mentioning the past events from those years.
Qiao Mo looked at her in shock, but Yang Peiyun nervously grabbed her hand: "Xiao Mo, back then, mom really had no choice... I really couldn't support you..."
Qiao Mo was stunned again, as if the information today was too overwhelming for her to absorb all at once.
She gazed absentmindedly at the wrinkled hand before hers, thin, with light spots already appearing.
Her fingertips rested on the back of the hand, feeling the roughness, as if life had been bitter over the years.
Yang Peiyun gave a bitter smile and said softly, "At that time, seeing how skinny you all were, and coinciding with my serious illness, I really couldn't take care of you anymore by myself, which led me to this idea."
Qiao Mo still remained silent, realizing she wasn't an orphan. Her mother wasn't dead after all.
For a moment, a myriad of feelings surged in her heart, and she couldn't tell exactly what she was feeling.
