Wei Ying said, “My words are not finished yet. Don’t apologize. I am not blaming anyone.” Carrying on, she looked over at the crowd and found Zhang Ye. She nodded slightly at him before saying, “My father liked Teacher Zhang Ye’s poems when he was alive. He liked them so much that he would read them a few times each day. I have seen them, too. One of the poems touched me a lot. This poem says what I have been unable to tell my father! And today, I need to tell him that!”
What did she want to say?
To complain?
Or to question?
Everyone listened quietly.