"Bastard!" Leng Lin cursed softly in the direction from which Leng Zirui had sent the message, then turned around and approached the tombstone with a gentle expression, "Shiyin, it seems my temper really can't change!"
He bent down and carefully gathered up the few blades of broken grass, tossing them into the soil beneath the dwarf pine, before walking up to the tombstone, squatting down, and gently stroking the stone with his rough, calloused fingers, fingers that had handled guns for so many years.
"Did you see just now, could it really have been that girl who came?"
"Zirui's analysis seems quite reasonable. Maybe, maybe this time he's truly been moved by mortal emotions."
"Once I see them all settled down with families of their own, then I can go down to join you with peace of mind. Leaving you alone all these years, it's my fault."
...
He paused after each sentence he spoke.
It wasn't like he was talking to himself, but rather communicating with his deceased wife.
