At that moment, Gu Mingzhu felt as if time had come to a standstill.
As though hands were gripping her throat.
Gu Mingzhu only felt her breathing become difficult.
That person was Gao Wenbin.
Even though it had been thirty years.
But Gu Mingzhu still recognized him at first glance.
That face, it was still his, yet it seemed to have changed a lot.
He was no longer the smiling rogue of a youth from thirty years ago.
He had become a middle-aged man with a face etched by the years.
He truly was completely different from before, his temperament restrained, becoming reticent and stable, like a sword securely placed within an iron sheath, its gleam contained, with an air of refined elegance that the domineering young man of the past now exuded.
Gu Mingzhu immediately noticed the scar near his eye.
It was from when Gu Shengyuan had locked him in the cellar, and he had been cut by a falling bottle of red wine.
