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She casually looked at the photos in her diary. Most of them were photos of Shen Suxin alone. On the back was a line of flowing English, a man\'s resolute handwriting. She didn\'t need to think about it. She knew it was from that man. There was not much ambiguity, but only the time and place or the background mood when taking the photos.

There was only one group photo. He took her hand and walked on the street in late autumn. The woman smiled very tenderly. The man looked at her with a little smile from the corners of his eyes and eyebrows.

With a slap, Shen Qingqing re overlapped the lid of the box and raised a sarcastic smile on her lips.

After reading it, she put the box in the cabinet again and locked it.

In Shen Qingqing\'s eyes, the secrets in this box, like her life experience, should be sealed forever.

Harris is just Harris. Shen Qingqing is still Shen Qingqing. There has never been any intersection between them.

Not in the past, not now, not in the future.

On the day of Shen Suxin\'s birthday, Harris had come to Tongcheng. He got up very early. His car stopped at the foot of the mountain. The rising sun had risen slowly. He stepped over the stone steps and walked step by step to the cemetery halfway up the mountain. When he came near the tombstone, he found that someone was earlier than him.

From a distance, I saw a thin figure half kneeling in front of the tombstone, wiping the dust on the tombstone with a clean handkerchief.

"Mom, I brought your favorite sweet scented osmanthus cake. Do you think it\'s delicious? I remember when I was young, my grandfather would say you love it every time he saw me eat sweet scented osmanthus cake." Shen Qingqing smiled a bit naughty and stroked the small picture on the tombstone with her fingertips. She brought flowers and fruit.

Except for this small photo, she has little impression of her mother. She has almost no impression of her mother. All her knowledge of her mother is in Grandpa\'s mouth.

She knows that her mother is a stubborn and proud person. She knows that her mother plays a good piano and is a famous talented woman in the Conservatory of music.

Maybe she inherited her good genes, so she was so good when she was a child.

"Mom, you\'ve been lying here alone for a long time. Have you met grandpa? Did grandpa tell you about Qingqing? Qingqing is very unfilial, doesn\'t listen to Grandpa\'s words, is very naughty, and always annoys Grandpa." Shen Qingqing, like a child, pastes her side face on the tombstone and tries to get close to her mother.

But only the roaring wind and the cold temperature from the tombstone answered her.

Grandpa said that when she spoke, her mother gently touched her face.

"Mom, I will often come to accompany you in the future. In this way, you won\'t be alone with Qingqing."

She still didn\'t answer, but Shen Qingqing seemed to be used to this way of talking to herself. She lowered her head and put the fruits in a plate in front of Shen Suxin\'s tombstone one by one.

Just finished everything, a pair of black leather shoes appeared at the same time.

The visitor bent down and put a large handful of pure white lilies in front of the tombstone.

Few people know that Shen Suxin likes lilies.

Shen Qingqing subconsciously raised her head, and a brief consternation flashed in her eyes, and her expression gradually condensed into ice.