Three days later, Su Xiaofei was seated next to her mother's hospital bed inside a private room, taking a nap with her head resting on her folded arms on top of the sheets. Yun Qingrong could only sigh and reach out a hand to push away the hair from her daughter's face as she slept.
Yun Qingrong thought that even when her Feifei had already grown up, there were still things that remained the same. Her Feifei would forever be her little girl in her heart. The memory of the past playing once again in her mind.
Her Feifei was only eight at the time and she, Yun Qingrong, had fallen sick from the long hours of work, forcing her to take a few days off to recover. During those times, in her sleep, she could feel her daughter's small hands trying to wipe the sweat from her face with a damp cloth.
