"What a carefree, cute little girl, how nice!" Ye Wanhua muttered to herself.
Wang Junchen had just walked a few steps away when he suddenly heard his wife say this, so he immediately turned back, gently patted her shoulders, his eyes hiding an indecipherable smile.
"Yes, this girl is quite cute, just like you when you were young—sweet when you spoke, even when..."
"Like me? If you want to mock me, just say it directly, why use a child?"
The conversation meant to be heartfelt was met with skepticism, and Wang Junchen felt an indescribable sense of loss, but what could he do? She was his beloved wife and the mother of their lost young child.
Ah Hua, I meant everything I said!
It's been so long, why can't you move on?
In the fifteen years since they'd lost their child, Wang Junchen had continually suppressed his grief and anger, constantly encouraging himself and comforting his wife, never giving up.
"Why are you looking at me like that, am I wrong?"
