Before the wooden table, Ye Bei sat calmly.
The folding fan was on the table.
There were no other superfluous actions.
"Where is my father?" Pu Qingyin took the initiative to ask after watching for a while.
"He went to the kitchen to cook." Ye Bei glanced slightly over Pu Qingyin and answered very casually.
"Ye Bei, I want to ask you a few questions." When Pu Qingyin said this, she carefully hugged the wooden box in her arms with his hands, while her body was leaning against the wall next to the wooden door.
"En." Ye Bei gave a light hum, agreeing.
"When you were on the street before, you said you knew my father? Is this true?" Pu Qingyin asked solemnly.
"Of course." Ye Bei nodded.
"When I first saw you, I really thought you were very familiar. Did we meet when we were young? But that shouldn't be true. You don't seem to be 18 years old, and I'm not too old this year." Pu Qingyin continued to speak.
