Lin Shuying hadn't expected her son to say that, and her mind drifted back to that time.
She remembered it well—the time Zhongshan had mentioned. The boy had been sick, and she had asked Zheng Daniu to go with her to see a doctor, but he refused. He'd even cursed at her, saying their son wouldn't live long, so it was useless to see a doctor and just a waste of his money.
With no other choice, she had to carry the child on her back herself. But she was just one woman, and her son was already ten years old. The doctor's house was over a kilometer away from their home. She carried him for a few hundred meters before she couldn't go on, and they both fell. She sat there, hugging her son and crying, utterly heartbroken and filled with despair, wondering when this kind of life would ever end.
