Soon, they arrived at the hospital.
Qin Yingyue rushed to Lin Yi's ward.
As soon as he entered, she saw Liang Ruoxu sitting beside him.
Lin Yi's body was placed on the bed.
"Son!"
Qin Yingyue's cries were deafening. She knelt in front of Lin Yi's bed, and everyone on the entire floor could hear her cries.
She did not have an identity like Lin Jingzhan. In comparison, she was just an ordinary person.
Just like thousands of mothers.
She was fragile, and Lin Yi's death was something she couldn't bear.
"Son, open your eyes and look at me."
Qin Yingyue's tears drenched the sheets as she sobbed uncontrollably. She held Lin Yi's hand tightly, unwilling to let go no matter what.
She was unwilling to believe that her son, who had just acknowledged her, would leave her at such a young age.
But no matter how much she cried, no one responded.
