Gu Ying was her child, whom she had raised bit by bit—her treasure. She couldn't fathom how her daughter had suffered such abuse.
Cheng Weiyue watched the woman's sorrowful demeanor in silence, passing her a tissue.
Gu's father looked at Gu's mother's agitated appearance and had already roughly guessed the nature of the document in her hands, imagining how startling and hard to accept it must be.
After a moment of thought, he mustered the courage to take the document from Gu's mother's hands with a trembling grip.
The instant he saw the contents, this man, who rarely shed tears no matter how tough times were, felt his eyes well up despite his normally unyielding nature.
"Our daughter," Gu's father took a deep breath, his voice shaking, "our daughter, our Yingying, how could she encounter such a thing?"
"She didn't tell us anything, this child, she just didn't want to worry us!" Gu's mother's voice trembled with heartache.
