He Yanmo was crying very sadly, her shoulders shaking, filled with loss and grief.
This sorrow stemmed from her self-awareness and a sudden sense of inferiority.
The eight years Shang Yin had been away from home had created a chasm-like distance between them.
At this moment, Li Qiao, feeling compassionate, leaned forward and patted her back, "You are too hard on yourself."
He Yanmo clutched Li Qiao's white coat, lifting her tear-stained face, stubbornly asking, "Godmother, I want to hear the truth from you."
"Can you handle it?" Li Qiao handed her a tissue, candidly saying, "The truth might not be pleasant to hear."
He Yanmo held her breath, smiling bitterly through tears, "You see, I'm not belittling myself for no reason."
Li Qiao stroked her head. Even as an elder who shouldn't say discouraging words to the younger generation, she was still Li Qiao, a person who always had a clear vision.
Is He Yanmo worthy of the current Shang Yin?
The answer is, no.
