Chapter 94 - 91: Picnic
"Mom, Sis, stop arguing! Kesong is still waiting for me to go back!"
"Little Sis, how can you just leave like this? We haven’t finished talking yet! What if that child ends up being compatible? Can you really just stand by and watch Kesong, at such a young age, leave us so soon?" The eldest daughter truly loved this child. As she spoke, her voice choked and tears streamed down her face.
The three women burst into tears – this was the reality they least wanted to face!
After crying for a while, the old lady steadied her emotions and tentatively said, "Little one, if that child doesn’t work out, perhaps we could secretly search for someone? What if we find someone compatible? That would save my grandson’s life!"
"Mom, it’s not that I don’t want to search! But you all know that when I married into the Yan Family, they didn’t even know that child existed. Now, if I suddenly say I have another child, who would accept that? And besides, that child left me almost 20 years ago. I..."
She struggled to hold back sobs and continued, "I want to find them too – to see if they’re living well. Do you think I don’t want to? That child was part of me for ten whole months and only drank my milk for a year! Just thinking about it breaks my heart; I feel like I’ve cried all my tears dry!"
The eldest daughter patted her younger sister’s back and comforted her, "Don’t cry anymore, Little Sis! I know the pain in your heart. How about this? You don’t need to take the lead—I’ll send someone to that man’s hometown to search. If we find the child, we won’t need to tell the Yan Family the truth! If the match is successful, isn’t that even better? Either way, whether or not it works out, we’ll give the child some money – consider it compensation for all these years you haven’t been by their side!"
"Sis, thank you! Please help me find her. I want to know if she’s doing well, if her father found her a good stepmother, if she’s been bullied or mistreated..."
Tears spilled uncontrollably. Perhaps she was truly overwhelmed with sorrow. A mother’s heart is not made of stone—how could she not care?
For many years, she hadn’t mentioned it aloud, but in the quiet of the night, she always thought of that child. But what could she do? Could her father let her acknowledge the child now? And would her husband’s family accept them?