"Do you know what was inside the syringe? What kind of drug was inside?"
The woman walked up to Lu Qingxin. She wielded the scalpel expertly and sliced across Lu Qingxin's right face.
She drew a line that was symmetrical with the wound on the left cheek. The blood slowly flowed out from the wound, revealing a deep line.
"Why did my son die?"
She kept thinking, of the incident. The school had organized an excursion for spring. There were so many people then. Why did it have to be her son?
Why did Lu Qingxin pick her son out of all the students present?
Was it a coincidence?
"I'm so sorry. Sorry... sorry... sorry..."
Lu Qingxin kept mouthing the word, "Sorry" over and over again.
What good was apologizing now?
The mother of the little fat boy simply sneered. "What are you sorry for? I don't need your apology. I want you to return my son to me."
How was that possible?
The little fat boy was dead.