Lin Nianhe and the others were returning in a cow cart, its bed still stained with blood, which was heart-wrenching to see.
Riding in a cow cart at this time was a tormenting experience; the northwest wind howled, cutting into the face like a knife, leaving it completely numb.
Lin Nianhe had forgotten to wear a scarf when she left, so she could only stand her military coat's collar up and huddle her hands into a small ball.
The journey was very silent. Close to reaching the village, Li Xiaoshan finally asked, "Dad, is Brother Zhuangshi really not going to get better?"
Li Dahe's eyebrows twitched, and he mumbled ambiguously, "I don't know."
Li Xiaoshan thought for a moment, then turned to look at Lin Nianhe.
He figured that Lin Nianhe, with her broader experience, should probably know.
Lin Nianhe sensed his gaze, pursed her lips, and pretended not to notice.
