Seeing the sorrowful expression in Qiao Jing's eyes, Xu Moqian was filled with suspicion.
He stood beside her, furrowing his brows, muttering to himself, "It's strange. From her reaction, it seems that she must have spent a long time here. Otherwise, she wouldn't have such a deep bond with Grandpa Zhang. Her current genuine emotions should be instinctive."
"But if that's the case, why in the past didn't Sister Jing talk about this matter in detail? She only mentioned adopting a sister in brief."
Xu Moqian was puzzled, frowning more deeply.
In fact, what puzzled him even more was the name Jing Yun.
Why does it feel like this name was used by Sister Jing in the past?
Thinking left and right, Xu Moqian couldn't make sense of it, and the more he thought, the more confused he became, feeling completely muddled.
After all the joss papers were burned, Qiao Jing stood up, took a tissue from her carry-on bag, and cleaned the dust off the tombstone.
