"Mother, why are you frowning? You just caught a butterfly for Xiaoyi. Xiaoyi gave it to you!" Xiaoyi happily ran in from the door and happened to see Ling Mulao looking out the window with a solemn expression.

"Xiaoyi, be good, mother is just tired, you go and talk to Lingya..." Ling Mulao came back to his senses, raised his slender green onion fingers slightly and was about to pat Xiaoyi's head.

Suddenly, when looking at the childish face in front of him, Ling Mulao's hands suddenly froze in mid-air.

Xiaoyi's appearance and the man in the portrait just now, apart from the charm left by the years, are clearly carved from the same mold. Could it be...

The tears in her eyes became more and more violent. Ling Mulao seemed to have found the missing piece in her heart, but she was even more confused because she didn't know who she was now.

At night, she dreamed again, it was still snowing all over the sky.

Thick snow piled on the man's body. His strong arms were holding the woman in his arms tightly. His breath was weak and his face was pale, as if he was about to die.

Ling Mulao approached slowly, cautiously for fear of breaking the dream. This time she finally saw clearly that the man's appearance was exactly the same as the one in her painting.

"You are..." Ling Mulao knelt down to catch the man, but it was like a shadow and couldn't catch anything.

The man's face was as pale as paper, he buried his head deeply in the woman's hair, and murmured softly: "Wife, if you wake up and find that your husband is no longer here, don't be sad, because our child is still with you.

Don't blame me for being selfish, I want to be with you forever, but I want to see you live well, and I want to see our children thrive."

As he spoke, the man frowned, and a mouthful of blood flowed out from the corner of his mouth. The scarlet blood fell on the white snow, more charming than the camellias everywhere.

"Honey, look how beautiful the snow is. It's a pity that I never have the chance to watch it with you again. You said, 'I wish we could be with you forever.' I just ask you to forget about me when you wake up."

..there will be no pain and no delusion..”

The voice became weaker and weaker, and the man finally slowly closed his eyes and breathed his last breath, and passed away.

"Yi!" Ling Muchao suddenly woke up and sat down on the bedside.

In an instant, scenes from the past appeared in my mind, and those memories that had been swallowed up miraculously came back, even clearer than before.

At this moment, Ling Mulao knew that when she was about to die in Lihentian, Nangong Yi actually saved her with his own life, and he was taken to Yunyao Island by Hua Wuxin.

A year and a half later, she actually stayed on Yunyao Island for a year and a half, completely forgetting about the man she loved so much. At this moment, Ling Mulao felt regretful and wanted to kill herself.

"Yi, Yi..." Ling Muchao bit her lip and murmured.

She didn't cry, but the tears fell turbulently, as if there was no end to them. She could only vent her pain like this, but no matter how she tortured herself, Nangong Yi could not come back.

Staggering out of bed, Ling Mulao squatted beside the small bed and looked at Xiaoyi who was sleeping soundly, stroking the face that looked very similar to Nangong Yi's with trembling fingers.

Xiaoyi seemed to be aware of the touch of the fingers, and the brows on his face could not help but frown, but he still turned over and fell asleep again.

"Xiao Yi, remember your father is Nangong Yi, Nangong Yi!" Ling Muchao lowered his head and whispered softly against Xiao Yi's face.
Chapter completed!