"You said Xiaoman has something to say to us?"
“Yes, Uncle,” Yan Ning nodded, “Xiaoman wants to meet you.”
After saying that, she gently opened the bottle cap.
A gust of cold wind blew by, and the lights in the room suddenly flickered.
Xiaoman appeared before them, her face haggard, her eyes filled with sorrow.
"Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have impulsively committed suicide and left you behind..."
Xiaoman's voice was very soft, as if it came from a distant place, with a hint of sob in it.
Her tears welled up in her eyes, but she couldn't let them fall.
She reached out, wanting to touch her parents' faces, but could only pass through the air.
I touched a void.
"Xiaoman! Our darling, we miss you so much!"
The middle-aged couple rushed forward, only to find emptiness; they couldn't help but burst into tears.
A trace of guilt flashed in Xiaoman's eyes. She looked at her parents' faces, and those familiar faces filled her heart with pain.
She longed to hug them again, to hear their voices again, but she could only stand there, watching them weep.
"Xiaoman, why are you being so foolish? We've been waiting for you to come back, we've been waiting for you..."
The woman's voice was almost pleading, and her tears rolled down her cheeks like a broken string of pearls.
The man tried hard to control his emotions, but his trembling body betrayed his inner turmoil.
The three stood face to face, weeping and expressing their endless longing.
The sun gradually set.
The clouds on the horizon were dyed blood red.
Yan Ning stood not far away, watching this scene, and felt a pang of sadness in her heart.
Yan Ning gently reminded her, "Xiaoman, it's time to go, it's almost time..."
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