With one pull and one tweak, He Mengjie's soft body was buckled into his warm and solid chest.
He Mengjie's eyes were a little confused, and she turned her head mechanically and looked at it, and then the tears that had stopped slightly rushed out again like a torrent that broke the dam.
"Wenxuan! Grandpa is dead!" As if he had finally found a harbor to rely on, He Mengjie buryed her face in Wenxuan's chest with a cry of crying.
There was a warmth that made her calm and a sense of security that made her peaceful. She buried her face deeply in his arms, and when she heard his powerful heartbeat, her heartbeat also became stronger.
Wenxuan reached out and stroked her head gently, with a low voice with a hint of care: "Don't be afraid, I'm here."
Although it was just a simple sentence, He Mengjie's heart was inexplicably calmed down, and her sadness became less desolate.
Wenxuan gently pushed He Mengjie away, walked to He Dasheng's bed and looked down silently for a while, then turned around and pulled He Mengjie's hand and sought her opinions: "Let's deal with the affairs of my grandfather first, okay
good?"
He Mengjie nodded blankly, but her heart was in a mess.
When her grandmother left, although she was sad, she was still responsible for her grandfather. Now, she was alone in holding a funeral for her grandfather... She couldn't help but feel a little scared in her heart.
Wenxuan gently pinched her hand, and the warm heat quickly spread from his fingertips to He Mengjie's heart.
She looked up at him, his eyes were as tender as water: "Where is me, don't be afraid." His voice was gentle, but extremely firm.
He Mengjie's heart calmed down again and nodded gently.
Wenxuan handed He Mengjie over to Wang Zihao's care, and then he was busy arranging funeral matters.
During the whole process, He Mengjie just watched him walk in and out with tears in his eyes, and then everything was ready.
The mourning hall is located in the ruins of the village, and half of the wall that was pushed down is the crime scene.
When the neighbors in the past heard the news, they all came. He Dasheng's experience aroused their surging anger.
He Mengjie didn't care about anger because her body and brain were completely covered by sadness. She wore mourning clothes, knelt in front of He Dasheng's spirit, and cried bitterly.
During the three days of grief, He Mengjie lived a dim life, but what made her never lose her courage was Wen Xuan, who was always by her side.
His big hands are always so warm, his arms are always so powerful, his voice is always so gentle, and his eyes are always so caring.
He is like a harbor, allowing He Mengjie to live in full swing and let He Mengjie muster the courage to live from the pain of losing his only relative.
He Mengjie buried He Dasheng next to his grandmother's grave. After she buried it in the soil, she stayed in front of her grandfather's grave for a long time. It was not until the sun set that she hugged Wenxuan and went back three times next time.
When you return to that dilapidated home, everything will rekindle He Mengjie's memories, and the sadness flows unstoppable.
That morning, the ceremony she and her grandfather packed together was still there, and there were a few more small bags next to her. It seemed that when she and Wang Zihao went out, their grandfather packed it up by themselves.
Thinking of this, He Mengjie covered her mouth and tears flowed down.
Wenxuan came over immediately and hugged her tightly.
"Wenxuan, it's my fault. I shouldn't have left my grandfather and went out to see the house alone!" She choked and the guilt that was deep in her heart floated up and entangled her heart.