Xie Yanhai and Xie Lin snapped out of their daze, staring blankly at the figure kneeling in front of the coffin, almost crying out in shock simultaneously--
"Jiajia?"
"Sis!"
In the center of the mourning hall was a portrait of Shi Peirong, looking kind and tranquil in the black and white photo, her wise eyes as if seeing through the mortal world, or as though she had finally achieved her wish to reunite with her grandfather.
Song Jiawen wept as she kowtowed three times, then looked up at her grandmother's portrait; she wanted to commit her to memory, never to forget.
Because she had already forgotten her grandmother and didn't want to forget her great-grandmother as well.
"Jiajia, come over here."
Seeing her kneeling motionless on the cold ground, Xie Yanhai hurriedly pulled her onto a cushion nearby.
He then called out to Xie Lin, "Xiaolin, go and pour a cup of hot water for your sister."
At the same time, he asked, "How did you get back? In the middle of the night..."