Lin Qinghua got up, her face showing impatience as she was assisted out of the study. Behind her, Lin Zhengyang once again formally bowed with his hands joined in respect, "Farewell, Princess Duan."
Just as she was about to leave the main courtyard, a child suddenly collided with Lin Qinghua. The child didn't crash directly into her arms, but was stopped by the person beside Lin Qinghua.
The child who was stopped looked rather frail, his small face was alarmingly pale. Dressed in tiny silk clothes, he looked as if he would dissolve in the warm sunshine like snow under a breeze.
Lin Qingcheng looked up with big timid eyes at Lin Qinghua and softly called her "Sister".
The word 'sister' was slightly tremulous, yet soft and tender. The longing in his eyes for Lin Qinghua to hold him was evident.
For some reason, Lin Qingcheng felt that his sister was different. He was somewhat scared, but he knew that this was his sister.
So, he reached out tentatively: "Sister, hold me."
