"I had a nightmare." Shen Qianshu lowered her head. It was really a nightmare, a nightmare that caused her to be physically and mentally exhausted. She experienced it once before when her child died and another time when Tong Hua was in critical condition.
She was always an optimistic person, burying those sad memories deep in the back of her mind, unwilling to dig them out.
"A nightmare can cause you to cry so badly? Do you think I am a fool? Who are you insulting?"
Shen Qianshu was shocked. She remembered Tong Hua's past words: "Who are you insulting?"
The tone was mysteriously similar.
"I dreamt of… the time when my son died."
Ye Ling instantly became silent. Shen Qianshu leaned against the sofa, slightly raised her legs, and shook her feet restlessly. Ye Ling was silent, and a strong and heavy feeling hung in the air. Ye Ling's eyes darkened, clueless of what he was thinking about.
