When Fu Yishu received the news of Jing Qingjia's death, it was late at night.

It was an obituary delivered by Jing Qingyi.

It rained heavily at night. The young master of the Jing family, who had never been civilized, stood at the door with a black umbrella and a black suit, looking at him coldly.

Fu Yishu suddenly had a premonition at that moment, which was fierce and terrifying, which made him unwilling to believe it.

So he looked at the boy, pursed his lips and asked, "how did such a heavy rain come?"

Jing Qingyi was silent for a while and suddenly said, "Fu Yishu, did it rain so hard that night when you refused my sister?"

Fu Yishu was stunned.

He remembered that day, it was a long time ago.

It seems to be the same rain, Jing Qingjia said in the pouring rain that she loved him.

But at that time, he did not realize his intention, coldly refused her, got on the bus and left, she ran after his car in the heavy rain, but he did not look back.

No, not now.

Jing Qingyi looked at the door of the Fu family for a long time, and his voice seemed to have soaked in the shade of the weather. He said, "she died. Not long ago, a word has not been left for you."

This sentence, like a thunderbolt, struck Fu Yishu and made him feel cold and cold fear.

He was a little confused What? "

"She's dead." Jing Qingyi repeated calmly, saying, "she doesn't want to have a funeral. You can come to see her on the day of burial."

As soon as he finished speaking, Fu Yishu grabbed his arm, and with such force, the veins on the back of his hand burst.

He asked word by word: "what's wrong with her?"

Jing Qingyi took a deep breath and said, "you have heard clearly. Fu Yishu, I didn't think you were an escapist. "

After that, he opened Fu Yishu's hand, held the umbrella, turned and disappeared in the rain.

Fu Yishu stood in the rain for a long time.

The rain had wet his hair and clothes, and he felt the freezing cold.

Along with the obituary, a white chrysanthemum is placed under the steps by Jing Qingyi. It has been withered by the rain. Not long ago, the fresh flower is fleeting.

Fu Yishu's fingers were tightly pinched together. His fingernails pierced the skin, bleeding, and then washed away by the rain. It was like whose blood and tears opened a dense flower.

Fu Yishu thought, that night, Jiajia, were you so cold?

It's like that in the future, I can't feel the temperature in this world.

……

Not many people know about the death of the eldest lady of the king family.

Not many people even know that there is a young lady in the Jing family. She is very sick and almost isolated from the world. When she leaves, no one remembers her.

The day of jingqingjia's burial was a fine day, with warm sunshine and blooming flowers, but the atmosphere in the cemetery was depressed.

Jing's mother kept crying, holding Jing Qingjia's ashes box and unwilling to let go. Her father advised her in a low voice, and her mother cried and said, "my Jiajia is still so young She hasn't even finished a third of her life Why is God so unfair to her? "

Jing Fu is speechless, and his eyes are full of tears.

Fu Yishu stood not far away, quietly watching, as if he was an outsider.

He couldn't even bury the girl he loved in person.

The karma of this world is always the same.

Once she looked at his back, now he looked at her tombstone.

No one owes anyone.

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