This year, Jiang Lan was thirty-eight years old.
It was inevitable that some people in the village would die.
After the funeral, Xiao Yu was a little distracted. She sat beside Jiang Lan and felt empty.
"Darling, they will all die and disappear from this world, never to be found again, right?" Xiao Yu looked at Jiang Lan and asked.
Jiang Lan caressed Xiao Yu's head and said.
"To be born, grow old, fall sick, and die. This is the order of the world."
"Then, what if I want to talk to them one day? What if I suddenly want to see them?" Xiao Yu's eyes were a little wet.
If one was dead, one was gone. One would never be found again.
The person would no longer respond, curse, or care about you anymore.
Everything would come to an end.
Another three years passed. Jiang Lan was already in his early forties and was already old.
