Chapter 183: Father 177
Tian Sangsang gazed at the already sleeping Meng Shuyan cradled in her arms, unable to look away no matter how much she tried. Her son, even in such an environment, remained adorable and delicate, as pure and angelic as ever.
Suddenly, a commotion arose not far away, seemingly a quarrel between a woman and a few soldiers.
Afraid of waking her son, Tian Sangsang didn’t approach too closely and instead covered Meng Shuyan lightly with her clothing.
She looked over and recognized the woman—it was Sister Qiu, a regular customer who often visited her shop.
"My son, my son! How could this happen? Didn’t you say you’d save him? Didn’t you say you could rescue him?!"
The man standing in front of her was holding a child in his arms. His expression was blank as he uttered coldly, "He’s dead."
"I’m very sorry, but he’s dead." He repeated, as immovable as a cold, unyielding statue.
Sister Qiu went mad, lunging forward and crying out in piercing grief, "Soldiers! Soldiers! What’s the use of soldiers if you can’t even save my son? He’s only eight years old! What kind of soldiers are you?! I think you were just slacking off—you didn’t try to save my son at all! You’re cowards, afraid to die! Otherwise, why was that boy saved, but not my son?!"
She pointed at the other little boy standing next to Jiang Jinghuai. When they had gone in earlier, one of the boys had been bleeding from the head, already unconscious—likely struck by a heavy object during the earthquake, dying from massive blood loss. The other boy had been luckier, only trapped under debris. Once the debris was moved, he still had a chance at survival.
One of these boys was Sister Qiu’s son, now lifeless in Jiang Jinghuai’s arms.
The soldiers behind Jiang Jinghuai had their heads bowed in helplessness. They didn’t want to explain—the fleeting life of an innocent child slipping away before their eyes was unbearable for them too. They hadn’t even had the chance to attempt a rescue. All they could bring back was a lifeless corpse.
The others nearby wore expressions of profound sorrow. Only the man at the forefront, with his handsome face streaked with some dust, revealed no visible emotion—his countenance was impassive.