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The fog dissipated quickly, perhaps in less than two seconds before Jiang Feng found himself in Jiang Yong's home.
Yes, Jiang Yong's home.
Where Jiang Feng stood was Jiang Yong's living room, with items placed on the cabinet almost identical to what he remembered from his previous visits, or perhaps exactly the same. After several months, however, Feng couldn't quite remember.
It was quietly still in the house, no human voices or footsteps, only the incessant chirping of birds outside the window, as if a flock were holding a noisy meeting.
Could this memory be from Granduncle Weiming's visit to Jiang Yong's home during the New Year's celebration?
This thought grew even stronger when Jiang Feng noticed the familiar computer book on the sofa, the pickled radish on the dining table, and the watch by the entrance.
Just as Feng was about to enter Jiang Xiaoran's room to see if there were two boxes of apples there, the door opened.
