"Which other mother in the world fails like me?"
Wen Zhaoning's elegant brows furrowed slightly. "As long as we can see Qinghuan and confirm she's all right, that's enough. We should leave before Jingxi finds out; he would only be harsher."
"But..." Hen Meixin looked at Lai Qinghuan, who was still laboring, utterly unaware of her visit.
At the thought, her heart soured.
Both sorrow and distress.
Her precious daughter, who had always lived so delicately, was now forced to toil under the scorching sun, to endure such suffering here.
Beyond distress, her greater emotion was anger at her own helplessness.
If it weren't for her incompetence, her daughter wouldn't have to suffer these hardships.
Wen Zhaoning pulled her along. "Let's go, Meixin."
She left with Wen Zhaoning, looking back three steps at a time.
......
CIA.
A significant amount of intelligence had been gathered lately. As usual, Song Yunchi was due to go to Han Palace to report to His Excellency the President.
