Bian Yue didn't know when she had arrived, but she was looking at her with a heartbroken expression, squatting down, supporting Wen Jiao's arm, and whispering, "Jiaojiao, Zhaoli is wrapping things up, let's go home. It's already very late."
Wen Jiao came to her senses, spoke, and her voice sounded desolate, "Did all those people come to offer condolences?"
Bian Yue said everyone had come, and most had already left. Zhaoli needed to take care of the aftermath and couldn't get away, so she came to pick her up.
Wen Jiao nodded. She tried to walk but barely took a step before her legs went weak and she almost fell.
Bian Yue quickly caught her, her voice filled with concern, "Jiaojiao, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Bian Yue, I'm just very cold." Wen Jiao's eyelids drooped, hiding the tears in her eyes as she said, "Please help me walk."
Of course, Bian Yue agreed, and she hastily supported Wen Jiao, walking towards the cemetery exit accompanied by a group of bodyguards.
