The mother and child clung to each other, their faces etched with grief. It was a memory he would never forget, the most painful of his life.,Zhong Jiawei held a bag in her hand, from which wafted a faint fragrance.,Jiang Zhihao didn't defend himself, and changed the subject: "Let's have congee for dinner tonight. Your stomach isn't doing well, so I'll cook the rice very soft, it might take a little longer."。