Chapter 1844

Murong Zhihong's death is not a small matter. It concerns the whole family and the whole group. Funerals, cemeteries and venues for mourning should be arranged.

Mrs. Murong nodded: "it's hard for you."

"Nothing, nothing It's all right. " Ji Mianmian carefully observed Mrs. Murong's expression and found that she just looked haggard, not too sad. She was even more worried. She had gone through the heart splitting, heart piercing pain. She knew that the calmer the surface was, the deeper the pain in her heart was.

Mr. Murong's death is a fatal blow to Mrs. Murong.

Murong's wife stretched out her hand to pull out the needle on the back of her hand. Ji Mianmian quickly stopped: "ah, madam, I can't. I haven't finished yet."

"I'm fine. I don't need an infusion." Mrs. Murong insisted on pulling it out.

Ji Mianmian pressed and held: "madam, you wait. I'll call a nurse to pull it for you. Just a moment."

As a result, as soon as she turned around, Mrs. Murong pulled it out by herself, and Ji Mianmian scratched her head helplessly.

Murong lady to get out of bed, Ji Mianmian immediately reached out to help, "where are you going, you haven't eaten for more than a day, let's go to eat first?"

Mrs. Murong is very weak. She hasn't eaten since yesterday, and she is too sad to walk.

Mrs. Murong shook her head slightly: "it doesn't matter. I'm not hungry. He's still in the morgue now. I'll see him."

Ji Mianmian was astringent: "madam, Mr. Murong, he..."

"I know. He's dead." Mrs. Murong's voice was so soft that she could hardly hear it.

Ji Mianmian felt uncomfortable. She felt the same way about Mrs. Murong's current mood. It was because of her understanding that she understood that the pain was unimaginable: "you I beg your pardon

Murong's lips raised a pale smile: "yes, I'm sorry, what else can I do?"

To death, he left with regret, because, in the end, she failed to stand in front of him, failed to say a word to him.

Ji Mianmian holds Murong's wife to the morgue. She finally sees Murong Zhihong's body.

Murong Mian knew that she would definitely see him when she woke up, so she had asked someone to tidy up Murong Zhihong and put on his clothes before he died, a navy suit, a rhombic tie, her hair combed neatly, and a pocket watch with exquisite workmanship in her chest.

Mrs. Murong knew the suit. She bought it for him. Even the pocket watch she used to choose for him.

That pocket watch is Murong Zhihong's favorite thing in his life. It's an old thing.

However, he used to wear this suit well, but now it's empty. After his illness, he is rapidly aging and thin. Originally, he was a tall and handsome man, but when he died, he was only a handful of bones.

Looking at Murong Zhihong's body, Mrs. Murong couldn't feel any sadness. She was probably paralyzed by the pain.

Psychologically speaking, when people are suffering to the extreme, when the body's instinct can't bear the pain, it will automatically close the five senses.

She held out her hand, gently stroked Murong Zhihong's face and said, "here I am Here I am... "

His body was cold and stiff. When he touched it with his fingers, it felt like he was touching a cold stone. There was no temperature at all.

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