Two days later.
A Rolls-Royce drove towards the remote countryside.
Inside the car.
Qiao Xi held Granny Qiao's urn, her expression subdued. Her eyes were full of red blood vessels, as she had personally witnessed her grandmother's cremation. At the time of the farewell to the body, her heart was as ashes.
A living person had become a handful of ashes.
She still dared not face reality, always fantasizing that Granny was waiting for her somewhere.
Huo Xingzhou unscrewed a bottle of mineral water and handed it to her, saying, "Have some water to moisten your throat. The doctor said you need to look after your vocal cords to avoid a chronic condition."
On the day of the fire, she had inhaled too much smoke.
Qiao Xi turned her clear eyes towards him, "I am a doctor, I know."
Huo Xingzhou withdrew his hand and placed the mineral water bottle to the side.
The mountain road was shaky, Qiao Xi sat up straight.
