A breeze sifted through the camphor trees, rustling noisily; however, the high summer temperatures transformed it into waves of heat that made one involuntarily break out in sweat.
The incessant cries of cicadas overlapped one another—why did they suddenly become so noisy and unpredictable? How could such creatures exist in this world?
Fu Han's heart became irritated.
She tried to ask in a calm voice, "Su Cheng, may I ask you a few questions?"
"Sure." Hope rekindled in Su Cheng's eyes, thinking this was Fu Han giving him a chance.
Fu Han's gaze fell upon the gardenias nearby. Their blossoms were so pure white that she always felt their scent was too intense, turning the gardenias vulgar.
She took a deep breath and slowly began, "The real Fu Han knew you for only three years, but she knew He Xing for twenty years, is that correct?"
