Leng Zimo, I have actually always been by your side, never having left.
——Luo Xiaoqian.
...
...
Qingdao.
Changan Cemetery.
Yesterday was Qingming Festival, and many graves in the cemetery had been newly covered with earth, contrasting with the overcrowded scene from the day before.
Today, the cemetery was very quiet, with only a few latecomers holding bouquets of flowers walking up.
A little boy, carrying a large bunch of yellow chrysanthemums, walked up the mountain path, his face hidden behind the big bouquet, yet his small hands holding the flowers were fair and slender.
He stopped in front of a tombstone, stepped forward, and leaned the bouquet against the stone.
The little face that had been obscured by the flowers immediately revealed clues.
He was quite tall for his age; although only four years old, he looked more like a big boy of five or six, his chubby cheeks still bearing some adorable baby fat. His black coat made his fair, jade-like face stand out, his delicate brows and eyes, and his pink lips slightly pursed, revealing a slightly more composed expression than that of an average child his age.
"Grandma, mom and I have come to see you again, do you miss me?" He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the dust off the tombstone, "I’ll clean it for you, your door is so dirty."
The crisp sound of high heels clacking against the stone path rang out as a young woman walked over slowly.
The five-inch heels, slender as nails, yet she walked with utmost stability and grace.
The young woman had a tall figure, her simple white shirt, black skirt, and black coat outlining her exquisite figure. With her hair tied up, large sunglasses covered her face, her efficiency tinged with a uniquely feminine charm.
"Mom, I’m helping grandma clean the door," the little boy lifted his face and waved the dirty handkerchief in his hand at the approaching person, "Look..."


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