As winter arrived, Old Mrs. Cheng's health had become increasingly exhausted, and several times in her sleep, she dreamt of her foster father, foster mother, and older sister, Gu Mingzhu.
She always had a feeling that her time had come.
When people grow old, they tend to reminisce about the past.
Leaning on the rattan chair, the old lady somehow thought of the witch who took Zhou Jiao to read her fortune that year.
Her eyes, tired from the sunlight, opened as she looked at the sky; she couldn't sit still anymore, picked up the small blanket on her legs, and stood up.
Mr. Cheng heard the noise, opened his eyes to take a look, then closed them again, "If you want anything, just call Auntie."
"Forget it, moving around is good for your health."
Hearing her say this, Mr. Cheng realized his old wife wanted to go out, and immediately sat up, "I'll accompany you."
"You forgot you have an appointment with an old friend? I'll go find Jiao Jiao."
