"Zhixin." When Huo Mian picked up the phone, her voice took on a doting tone.
"Sis, are you off work today?"
"Yeah."
"Then let's go sweep Dad's grave together at noon."
"Okay." Huo Mian was planning to go even if Zhixin hadn't called.
It had been exactly seven years since Uncle Jing passed away. It was on this day, seven years ago, that Uncle Jing died from that fatal car crash.
"I already went with Mom this morning and her mood wasn't great. I'll go with you again at noon."
"Don't you have classes today?"
"Nope. I'm going to the library to study in the afternoon."
"Alright, wait for me. We'll meet at the gates of the public cemetery."
"Okay."
Hanging up, Huo Mian's mood instantly grew heavy.
She still remembered that night seven years ago. She was on her way home from her evening classes when a black Buick commercial van came charging at her, too quick for her to dodge.
