I died in a car accident. A month later, my mother finally remembered me as her biological son. She found her hometown, but only to save his beloved stepson. The people in the village told her I was dead. But she didn't believe it and threatened to stop her grandma's hospital medicine. She never believed in my death. After seeing the urn in the mail, she still felt that I was acting, so she not only broke the urn, but also scattered my ashes on the ground. But later, she collapsed when she learned the truth about my death.
