Chapter 297 (2/2)

Ye Xun and Nanqiao looked at each other, and they both saw heartache and helplessness from each other's faces.

Even if the memory of that night is blurred, Gu Liuxing still accurately finds the child's tombstone. It's so small that people will feel sour and intolerable when they look at it.

Children, always hope, but now they are with a group of people in their late years. How pitiful it should be

The engraver asked, ”what do you want to engrave?”

Gu Liuxing looked at the flat tombstone without any scratch. His voice was misty. ”Gu Liuying's tomb, epitaph - I've been to this world, the stone erector - useless mother.”

The engraver was stunned, then nodded and said, ”OK.”

Useless mother

For the first time, someone wrote like this.

The engraver took out his tools, squatted in front of the tombstone, bowed his head devoutly and began to work.

Gu Liuxing's dull eyes suddenly shrunk and his whole body trembled.

Ye Xun stepped forward and put his arms around her shoulder to calm her.

Gu Liuxing suddenly opened his mouth and his voice was numb and hoarse: ”I thought that I could face it calmly and tell it: I love it very much. Even if it is not there, I will remember it all my life, but in fact, I can't do it.”

She choked: ”you say how useless I am. I can't even protect it. If it wasn't for my innocence, how could it lie here...”

And she, she even last night will want to take away the child, is really not the original intention of Fu Yanchen.

She is not only useless, but also ridiculous, so ridiculous that she pushes herself into the fantasy world again.

Ye Xun frowned, and his eyes were hard to bear. He said: ”it has nothing to do with you. If Fu Yanchen really doesn't want this child, you can't leave it anyway.”

Gu Liuxing hid her face and cried bitterly. Even if ye Xun said that, she still had to blame herself in her heart. It was because her mother protected her child. She was born, and she was a failure.

Spring and summer alternate, even the wind in the cemetery, the same warm, no imagination of the cold, like melting into the sunset.