When Yueyao entered the mourning hall, she saw Mingzhu kneeling on the straw mat, her eyes swollen like walnuts, her entire demeanor worn and haggard. Yueyao's eyes suddenly reddened. Those who had not experienced it could never understand the anguish of losing one's parents.
Yueyao approached Mingzhu and said, "Mingzhu, take care of yourself."
Mingzhu looked at Yueyao, tears streaming down her face.
Yueyao, paying no mind to the many people around, took the painting scroll from Xi Yu and said, "Mingzhu, there's nothing else I can do for you. This is the only thing I am capable of."
Presenting a painting scroll above the mourning hall was indeed a rare event. Naturally, everyone present, already lighting incense, looked at the scroll in Yueyao's hands with curiosity filling their hearts.
Wiping her tears, Mingzhu asked, "Yueyao, may I open it?" During their long association, she knew Yueyao would not give her something irrelevant.
Yueyao hesitated, then nodded.
