"Wait, Butler, let me out..."
She was sure these stylists and makeup artists were going to be the death of her!
Fu Han's plea for help was completely ignored by the butler.
After closing the door, the butler turned to leave, but seemed to remember something and specifically went to He Xing's room.
At that moment, He Xing was propping his chin with one hand, his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought.
"Sir, should I send the usual gifts to Mrs. Xia's grave?"
"Yes."
The man's voice was very soft, yet the butler caught it, "Okay, I'll notify them right away."
The door closed gently and He Xing opened his eyes, then he turned on his phone, deep in a hidden corner of his account there was a photograph.
The chaotic, frantic, cruel scene of the car accident from years ago, the woman lying on the ground, covered in blood, carefully cradling a young boy, even in death from excessive blood loss, her instinct was still fighting for the survival of a young life.
