"Don't cry, it hurts me when you do," the woman's voice was soft and weak, but her words carried an indescribable, heartwarming power.
"Alright, I won't cry," she suppressed the urge to continue shedding tears, trying her best to calm herself.
But no matter how hard she tried, facing this situation, as a child, how much could she really hold back?
String-struggled breaths—"hur—hur—" the woman was breathing more in than out, mouth agape, gasping deep, heavy breaths, on the verge of failing.
She tightly grasped the woman's hand, unable to contain her tears.
"Mom... mom..." she kept calling out, as if calling her more would let her stay in this world a little longer.
"Qiao... Jing..." the woman, with eyes half-closed, looked at her, and intermittently said, "Mom... doesn't blame you... never has... "
"No, don't blame... blame myself..."
"Mom... loves, loves you... forever... staying... by... your... side..."