Ying Shao is a Girl

The surgeon was very tired, but he still insisted on calling Ying Junchu.

"Master Ying, I'm sorry, Ms. Shao Yun failed to survive this test. The operation failed and she has no breath."

The doctor's voice was heavy.

The other person on the phone pondered for a while.

"Well, you guys are optimistic about Ling Yiche, I'll be right over."

Her voice was cold and indifferent, without any emotion.

Shao Yun's life and death did not have much impact on her.

From beginning to end, she only paid attention to Ling Yiche.

"Okay, Mr. Ying."

Outside the window, the cool breeze howled.

Heavy raindrops kept hitting the glass window, making a dull sound.

There were scattered figures on the spacious streets of the imperial capital.

Shao Yun has been pronounced dead by the hospital.

She was about to be taken to the hospital morgue.

A white cloth covered her head.

Her hair can be vaguely seen.

Hair is dry and split.

Hospital staff wheeled her to the morgue.

That dark, cold abyss.

The boy's eyes widened and his pupils shrank.

No!

Can't!

He wanted them to stop.

However, when he opened his mouth, he found that he could not make a sound.

Ling Yiche rushed forward like crazy, but was stopped by the medical staff.

He is very emotional now and is prone to getting into trouble.

"Please express your condolences."

The medical staff could only say this to him.

In the hospital, different stories of life and death are staged every day.

It's the same today.

Ling Yiche struggled to break away from the confinement of the medical staff. He wanted to go to his mother to accompany her.

The morgue was full of dead people.

Mom would be scared alone.

Not strong enough to break free.

The wooden comb in his pocket popped out and fell to the ground.

There was a muffled sound.

Ling Yiche stared blankly at the exquisite retro wooden comb that fell to the ground.

A glimmer of light flashed in the gray eyes.

The wooden comb that his mother cherished so much was still here, and he must deliver it to her.

Ling Yiche suddenly broke away from the medical staff.

He picked up the wooden comb on the ground and ran frantically towards the morgue.

His steps suddenly stopped.

Someone grabbed me by the back collar.

"Calm down."

The familiar cold voice hit his eardrums again.

Ying Junchu's stern face appeared in his sight.

"Let me go!" Ling Yiche continued to struggle.

"Your mother has... left." Ying Junchu originally wanted to say that Shao Yun was dead, but she felt it was inappropriate and might irritate Ling Yiche.

He changed his words to a more tactful one.

"Let her be clean."

Hearing this, Ling Yiche stopped struggling and lowered his hands slightly.

"Ugh...Mom, she...she really left me alone!"

He probably has no relatives in this world anymore.

The boy's eyes were red and he sobbed softly, like a wounded cub.

He used his arms to wipe away the tears that kept falling.

The skinny little boy was wrapped in layers of sadness.

"Stop crying." Her tone softened and seemed not as cold as before.

The heavy rain outside the window is still falling tirelessly, and it is falling happily, as if it is going to wash away all the sadness, darkness, and filth in the world.

Ling Yiche finally got tired of crying.

Leaning against Ying Jun, he fell asleep in a daze.

"..."

Finally it stopped for a while.

The boy's furry head rested on her shoulder, his brows were furrowed on his delicate and beautiful face, his eyelashes as thick and long as black crows trembled slightly, there was a shallow tear mole under his right eye, it was small and exquisite, and there were faint traces of tears on his fair cheeks. .

Ying Jun glanced at the young man leaning on him.

Shao Yun died, and Ling Yiche would be an orphan from now on.

In a sense, maybe not, Shao Yun was just his adoptive mother, and the Ling family was the place where he was born.

A sneer appeared on the corner of Ying Junchu's lips, she would never let him go back to the Ling family.