Chu Feng’s voice was calm as he slowly recounted the events of the past. He spoke of the radiance of Qin Luoyin’s maternal instinct as she lay dying. That kind of reluctance to part kept telling him to protect the child and not let him get hurt, these... were all told to her, hoping to move her and remind her of those little things.
Qing Yin was still calm. There was no joy, anger, sorrow, or joy. There was only silence. She gazed at the setting sun. After a long time, she stretched out her hand as if she wanted to catch a ray of the setting sun’s afterglow, but it fell through the gaps between her fingers.
