Song Weiyi heaved a light sigh, her thoughts unexpectedly drifting to Fu Qishan.
In principle, they were now in a relationship between a stepmother and a stepson.
Sheng Zhenguo was already of a certain age, yet so capricious and flirtatious, and his relationship with Sheng Jinsen didn't seem too good either—wasn't he afraid of being alone in his old age?
Song Weiyi curled her lips and realized that all she felt for Sheng Zhenguo was an instinctive disgust.
"Then I'll be going back first," Song Weiyi called out.
She had wanted to talk more with her mother, but with Sheng Jinsen nearby, it would be inappropriate for her to murmur on her own. What if he overheard her by accident?
"I just got here, and you want to leave? Do you see me as a flood?" Sheng Jinsen glanced at her sideways, bending down to place chrysanthemums in front of the tombstone.
