Seven years had passed.
It had been a full seven years since Ye Xiong last saw his younger sister, Ye Yangyang.
When he left home to join the military, Ye Yangyang was just an eleven-year-old girl, not yet physically developed, always clinging to him like a little shadow.
He never imagined that in the blink of an eye, she would have grown up so much.
About one hundred sixty-five centimeters tall, she belonged to the slender and tall type with a very quiet temperament, like the girl next door.
She just stood there, motionless, like a statue.
A world of difference compared to before their mother died, when she was mischievous and playful.
One could imagine, after their mother's death and being transferred to the military by official orders, how an eleven-year-old girl, seemingly without a pillar of support, must have lived through her days.
Looking at that quiet and cold figure, Ye Xiong's tears fell.
