"Whose funeral?" Lian Xinying felt like the oxygen in her body was sucked out in an instant.
Two days had passed!
Two days without any news of Yan Ye.
She looked quite composed, but in reality, her heart was riddled with torturous wounds.
Just imagine, a living person buried under the rubble, with no news for two days and nights… The chances of survival… slim to none.
Now that Yan's father had come to notify her of the funeral, Lian Xinying's thoughts reflexively turned to Yan Ye.
Yan's father looked at her tense and pale face, his lips moved, wanting to tell her the truth, but then he decided to wait a little longer.
Yan Ye might be dead, or he might not be.
Since there was a chance he wasn't, they would wait a bit longer.
Yan's father couldn't accept the news of his son's departure; he hoped that Yan Ye would come back on his own after some time.
