She bit her lip to calm herself and whispered a thank you, walking out with Zhou Jingwei's support.
Cheng Weiyue remembered the last time she saw Zhong Qing, lying in a hospital bed, thin and aged, but in good spirits, laughing and telling her she liked fresh flowers.
As she placed the roses and lilies in her hands on the bedside and chatted with her about everyday matters.
Back then, the doctor had said she was recovering well. How could it be that after such a short time, everything was different?
Cheng Weiyue received the urn from the crematorium staffer, holding it in her hands, feeling it was unusually light.
Zhong Qing had left, and the only thing in this world that could prove she had existed was the small urn in her hands.
How cruel, that the evidence of a person's existence in the world could truly be as light as a feather.
"Condolences," the staffer said to her, nodding with sincere earnestness.
Cheng Weiyue opened her mouth but couldn't manage to speak.