Hua Hua lowered her head, her voice heavy with tears. Every man remains a child before his mother.
Ling Yin patted her on the back, "Hua Hua, don't be sad."
Hua Hua struggled to hold back her emotions and nodded, "Brother Ling, do you think I should bury my father and mother together? Right now, they're on separate hills, and I feel they're so lonely, with no one to accompany them. My mother's grave is so simple, it's heartbreaking to look at, it hurts my eyes."
Ling Yin's heart was filled with guilt.
Over the years, whenever he returned to pay respects, he only tended Uncle Yuan's grave and rarely Aunt Wang's. Uncle Yuan's grave had been restored by him, so it didn't look distressing, but looking at Aunt Wang's grave was indeed painful.
"If you want, we can take this opportunity to bury Uncle and Aunt together. I'll find some people to recarve the tombstone, and once it's done, we can proceed with the burial."
