Chapter 253 Shengsheng, Dad kowtows to you...
Seeing how Young Master Nanchuan was taking such good care of Ning Fengsheng, she felt so jealous that she wanted to vomit blood.
Now she is required to kneel down to Ning Fengsheng?
"Shanshan, do you want to force your father to death?"
Several relatives had already pushed Ning Shanshan out, and everyone was accusing her, forcing her to almost kneel down.
Under the pressure of the elders' authority, Ning Shanshan reluctantly knelt on the ground...
"Who asked you to kneel down?" Ning Fengsheng frowned, not interested at all.
"Shengsheng, daddy also kneels down for you. Is it not enough that daddy begs you?" Father Ning wiped his tears and knelt down in front of her.
Nanchuan Shijue grabbed Ning Fengsheng's hand and kissed the back of her hand: "Why, are you feeling soft-hearted?"
Ning Fengsheng bit his lower lip and turned his face away stiffly.
"Shengsheng, Dad kowtows to you..." Father Ning kowtowed while scolding himself, saying that he was worse than pigs and dogs, and that he could not even forget his daughter in the fire.
Aunt Xue also held Ning Shanshan down, and the mother and daughter kowtowed together...
"Enough, grandpa and grandma are buried today, what do you want to do?" Ning Fengsheng found it ironic. Just because she gave birth to a child for the Nanchuan family, everyone was asking her for something?
"Alright, Master, keep this decision..." Moss glanced sharply at the entire room. "It just so happens that today is the funeral, and everyone from the Ning family who should be there is here. Everyone, listen carefully. Miss Ning is our Master's darling. If she suffers even the slightest injustice, our Master will be ruthless and will not tolerate it. By then, even if you mention your uncles, even if the King of Hell comes, it will be useless!"
The relatives nodded and swore, promising to treat Ning Fengsheng well.
…
The sun is shining brightly, scorching the towering cypresses of the Butterfly Cemetery.
The wind blew through the rows of stone tablets, bringing with it the scent of freshly turned earth.
Ning Fengsheng stood beside Nanchuan Shijue. He was dressed in a solemn black suit, his posture was as straight as a pine tree, yet he looked like a piece of black iron soaked in cold air.
The lines of that breathtakingly handsome profile were stretched to the utmost, the jawline was sharp enough to cut people, the thin lips were pursed into a cold straight line, and the deep eyes were full of Ning Fengsheng's reflection.
He held her hand tightly, a silent, overbearing possession. Everyone could see today that Ning Fengsheng's attitude was normal, but Nanchuan Shijue cared about her terribly, his eyes burning with passion, the kind of clingy love he had. He couldn't afford to offend her!
Ning Fengsheng was very glad to have him. The warmth from this man's fingers was her spiritual support and the only reality she could grasp in despair.
The pastor's low and long eulogy floated over the empty cemetery.
After the ceremony, relatives and friends left one after another, each with their own thoughts.
The cemetery soon became empty, with only the wind blowing scattered paper ashes around.
Moss burned all the gold ingots to ashes...
He kept muttering to himself, hoping that Grandpa Ning and Old Lady Ning could fulfill the young master's wish as soon as possible.
Ning Fengsheng wished he could wake up earlier and return to Nanchuan Shijue.
She still has so many things she wants to do with him...
Standing in front of the tomb, she was reluctant to leave. Nanchuan Shijue stood with her for a long, long time holding an umbrella...
"Ms. Ning, look at this," Moss opened the file bag and pulled out a blueprint. "This is the design chosen by the young master."
It was a semicircular European-style mausoleum.
The massive dome, constructed of perfectly cut white marble, is framed by intricate Corinthian columns, their shafts entwined with lifelike reliefs of acanthus leaves. In front of the tomb lies a wide platform, its edges carved with continuous scrollwork, and a central space reserved for an epitaph.
The entire tomb exudes an undisguised luxury and solemnity, with the timeless grandeur of old-world European aristocracy.
Ning Fengsheng's breathing became choked.
She recognized the curvature of the dome, the proportions of the columns, and even the curling lines of the acanthus leaves - it was the style from the treasured "Illustrated Guide to the Architecture of the Parthenon" in her grandfather's study!
When my grandfather was alive, he always loved to stroke the spine of that book, and occasionally a trace of yearning for distant foreign civilizations would flash across his eyes.
How could Nanchuan Shijue know this? He even engraved it on his grandfather's final resting place.
A stream of hot water rushed to my eyes, and a sour feeling flooded my nasal cavity.
"Nanchuan Shijue...you're more attentive than me." Ning Fengsheng said hoarsely, "I didn't do anything for them."
"What nonsense! Everything the young master has done represents you..." Moss put away the design drawings with satisfaction. "In the entire cemetery, only Master Ning and Old Lady Ning are worthy of such specifications."
Because they are Ning Fengsheng's family, the young master is so attentive.
Just then, there was a rustling sound of paper rubbing against each other.
The old gravekeeper was hunching over, flipping through a leather record book with his calloused hands.
"At seventy-six, one should die with a smile on his face. Nowadays, there are so many people who call time on their lives in their forties or fifties."
“…”
"In this cemetery, it's considered a long life. A happy funeral, a happy funeral..."
He paused, rubbed his thumb across the ink he had just written, and turned the page. As if speaking to himself, or perhaps to the silent listeners in the garden, he said, "How many people can live to his age without any problems? Those recorded in this book... well, many reach their end before they reach old age... Fate, that's something no one can predict..."
Ning Fengsheng's gaze was uncontrollably drawn to the open booklet that contained the secrets of countless dead souls.
Shocking age! All men!
Those cold numbers and brief cause of death, like ice-hardened daggers, pierced into Ning Fengsheng's eyes and then into her most vulnerable heart.
Forty-seven, fifty-two, forty-nine, forty-five...
Cerebral hemorrhage, cancer, uremia, car accidents...
These words spun wildly in her mind, and finally stopped on the chiseled face of Nanchuan Shijue - he was only twenty-five years old.
Grandpa’s seventy-six years old seemed so far away.
"Why are you crying again?" Nanchuan Shijue bent his fingers and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.
"I don't want you to become a name in the record book." She said aggrievedly, tears falling even harder. "Promise me that you will take good care of yourself in the future, go to the hospital for regular checkups, and listen to the doctor's advice. You must be good, eat well, don't drink too much, and stop losing your temper...it will damage your heart..."
The sob stuck in her throat, she stood on tiptoe and held his face, "I want you to live to be eighty, no, a hundred."
Nanchuan Shijue suddenly lowered his head and saw her little face as pale as paper and covered with tear marks.
Those wet eyes were now filled with fear and pleading, like a deer forced to the edge of a cliff.
His heart ached: "Shengsheng..."
"Nanchuan Shijue, did you hear me? I don't want you to die!"
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