Chapter 937

Grand funeral, from the dawn to the sunset just stopped.

Funerals in this world are no different, tombstones, wreaths, names, and photos.

She is not married, nor is he any person, so the only person on the tombstone is Luo Nanchu.

Her photo is also an inch of Huarong's choice, made in black and white color, inlaid on the tombstone.

Then there is age.

【199X-201X]。

She's three years younger than him, and very young.

I met at the age of 18 and ended at the age of 26, but it is only eight years.

Eight years is too short for a person's life.

What's more, in those eight years, they had been separated for five years.

After all, the time they spent together was just over three years. So short, short to a person's life, can be said to be worthless.

The sky gradually darkened, and Huarong came to call the man who had been standing in front of the tombstone to go back.

Fu Tingyuan stood in front of the tombstone in black and looked down. His eyes fell on the black and white photos on luonanchu's tombstone.

She looks at the camera and smiles, her eyes still fresh.

Huarong was moved by the scene and didn't dare to look at it again. He raised his head to Fu Tingyuan and said, "everyone is going back. Your father told me to call you to get on the bus."

Fu Tingyuan's line of sight slowly took back from the tombstone, and then nodded: "well."

Huarong looks at his expression, the man's face is calm and light, almost can't see what redundant mood. If she hadn't known how much he loved Ronan, she would have thought that Fu Tingyuan was not sad.

She hesitated a little, and gently called out, "court yuan."

The steady footed man in front of him turned his head and said, "eh?"

"It's not your fault." Huarong soft voice.

Fu Tingyuan looked at her, and then faintly withdrew his sight.

It's one o'clock in the morning back in downtown London.

Lu Mingyou is already asleep. He goes upstairs and opens the door by himself. Then he goes in and sits on the sofa.

The familiar smell in the air gradually diffused over, just like these days, let his heart gradually shrink because of pain.

In fact, he did not know why he came in every night to look for abuse.

Some people treat things that can't be touched subconsciously to escape, but he doesn't, he makes himself very clearly exposed to such pain, as if this can compensate for something.

But he knew it himself.

In fact, nothing can compensate.

She's dead.

In her last days, that month, he was just making her sad.

He had no way to think about it. There was a hole in his heart, and in this great sadness, the hole had a tendency to spread.

Ronan was already dead.

He can't really deal with this topic.

He did not go to the crematorium to see her for the last time, and the urn was not brought back by him. Even though he went to her funeral and saw her tombstone, he still felt that it was not true.

That afternoon, in the promenade of Westminster Abbey, he still clearly remembered her elegant figure walking there.

It was just a short time, ten days ago.

It was like yesterday.

Fu Tingyuan opened his eyes, went to turn off the light and slept in bed.