Chapter 744： burial, mourning

A week later, the day of the burial.

The sky was gray and haze, with a hazy drizzle, and it rained again after the fall, and the air was filled with a hint of coolness.

In the cemetery, the guests wore black clothes, held a black umbrella in one hand, and held a bouquet of flowers in the other hand.

They looked sad and silent, looking at the pictures on the tombstones.

He Siye's face was immature, his face was as pale as paper, and he was extremely thin.

There was a shallow smile on the corner of his mouth, his eyes were piercing, and he looked gentle and transparent.

In the drizzle, Song Qingling cried with scarlet eyes, and his body was shaky.

She discarded the umbrella in her hand, squatted down, her blue dress was stained with mud, and she looked embarrassed.

Song Qingling's face was pressed against the cold tombstone, and he stretched out his hand to stroke He Siye's photo, wiping the rain off for him.

"Ye'er... Ye'er... My Ye'er, you just left. What do you ask mother to do? You are cutting flesh on my heart."

The image of a noble lady on weekdays was completely discarded, raindrops fell on her body and wet her clothes, and her black hair was wet.

Her voice was hoarse, as if she had cried a lot in the past few days, as if the table case had been polished with sandpaper, sharp and harsh.

"Qingling... calm down. Ye'er has already left. He doesn't want to see you like this."

He Zhou stepped forward with an umbrella to shield her from the rain dripping from the sky.

"Go away! What nonsense are you talking about? My son didn't go, no!"

Song Qingling shook his head stubbornly, holding He Siye's tombstone tightly with both hands.

I cried so hard that tears and rain fell together, blurring my vision.

"..."

among those who came to mourn.

A young woman with slightly curly hair, wearing a black dress, and carrying a Chanel bag in her hand fell on the He Shi couple.

Rolling his eyes, mockery flashed in his eyes, and he pouted and moved his eyes away.

——

next to the cemetery.

A row of vehicles stopped at the intersection.

Inside a low-key SUV, Yan Zhixu and Nan Zelin were sitting by the window, looking at the mourners in the cemetery through the window.

There was a thin layer of mist in his eyes, and his mood was complicated and low, just like this gray, gloomy weather.

Nan Zelin raised his hand to cover his eyes, and a low sigh escaped from his throat, "Cousin, what was my brother's face when he left?"

Yan Zhixu leaned on the black seat, and there was a faint sense of freshness in the car.

She took out a tissue and wiped the window to make her vision clearer.

His voice was gentle and his eyes were peaceful, "He walked very peacefully, with no nostalgia for the world, and no resentment against anyone."

"By the way, and he reminds you to take a look at the sea instead of him."

Hearing Yan Zhixu's words, Nan Zelin's originally agitated mood gradually calmed down.

He nodded, "Well, I'll remember."

The two sat in the car for a long time, time passed quickly, and the mourners all left one after another. Only Song Qingling refused to leave, holding the tombstone in both hands, in a trance.

"..."

Nan Zelin's mood was as calm as water, without any ripples.

After waiting for a long time, Nan Zelin and Yan Zhixu got out of the car and went to pay homage to He Siye.

The two presented a bouquet of flowers, bowed after a while and left.

He looked back, "Let's go."

Yan Zhixu nodded, turned around and paced towards Qian.

She got into the driver's seat, inserted the car keys, and held the steering wheel with both hands.

Step on the accelerator, turn on the wipers, and the car disappears into the rainy night with a whizzing sound like an arrow from the string.