"But your body just recovered not long ago…"
"Don't worry about me."
Fu Ying interrupted Gu Hai's words of concern.
Seeing that Fu Ying was determined to sit here, Gu Hai didn't dissuade him anymore. He stood and waited at the side silently.
The snowflakes turned into heavy snow under the wind.
Fu Ying sat on the spot like a statue. Snow continued falling on him, dyeing his hair and clothes white.
This heavy snow seemed to be a form of blame and forgiveness at the same time.
Fu Ying felt a lump in his throat and his eyes turned red.
If his children were still around, they would be old enough to start school now.
Every time he thought of this, Fu Ying wished he could slap himself.
He had personally ruined his own happiness and Mo Rao's happiness.
"It's snowing."
On the way home, Mo Rao looked at the heavy snow outside the car window, her eyes filled with surprise.
She loved the snow.
