Be it eyebrows, nose, or mouth, Mu Wanrou, the one standing before him, bore no resemblance to the Qingcheng in his memories.
"Grandpa, what are you looking at?" She touched her face, wondering if there was anything strange on it.
Mu Sheng answered truthfully, "I'm only looking for the resemblance between you and your mother."
Her heart skipped a beat from shock for a moment before she forced herself to smile. "Not alike? How can that be? When I was a child, people said that my mom and I are alike."
"Not alike."
He slowly shut his eyes; her voice and appearance clearly emerged in his mind.
Be it features or voice, even after twelve years, it still left a deep impression on him.
That woman was the most indelible joy in his memory but also the most indelible pain.
Her death had dealt him a big blow, and he was devastated by this. He was sick in bed for a long time, unable to overcome the pain from losing his beloved daughter.
