"Come back with me, he misses you a lot."
Qin Zhao saw her curl up and couldn't help but feel even more heartbroken.
Chu Hanxu just kept shaking her head; she couldn't speak either.
"Why can't you speak?"
Qin Zhao noticed something was amiss and stared at her for a while.
Chu Hanxu's body was covered in burns. If she was burnt to death, why couldn't she speak?
"Mmm mmm mmm."
She lifted her eyes, filled with a blood-red hue, brimming with hatred.
Chu Hanxu pointed excitedly at her own mouth, gesturing something with her hands.
But her gestures were a bit chaotic, and Qin Zhao couldn't understand.
"I have paper and pen here; can you write?"
Chu Hanxu nodded, her eyes brimming again with blood and tears.
Qin Zhao gave her the paper and pen.
She squatted on the ground, her hand trembling as she held the pen.
So many years had passed, she could neither speak nor leave this mountain.
Even her dearest son, seeing her, did not want to acknowledge her as his mother.
