Seeing the woman, Yu Heng got up to wave his hand, "Mom..."
It was Mu Chenyan!
Song Jiawen sat stiffly at the table, not turning around.
Jiang Yan glanced at her before turning to look at Mu Chenyan, who was striding over.
The imagined rich lady and national painting master, graceful, luxurious, and so young that her real age couldn't be discerned... did not exist. The woman before him had greying hair. Perhaps because she had walked too quickly on her way here, or maybe due to nervousness, her temples and forehead were damp with hair sticking to her cheeks. Dressed in a black long-sleeved top and trousers, with noticeable mud spots on her pants and a wrinkled shirt, she looked quite disheveled.
But a pair of large eyes with clear dark circles were filled with hope as they looked at Song Jiawen...
Mu Chenyan reached the table, and even before sitting down, her eyes, having caught a glimpse of Song Jiawen as she entered the door, never strayed from her.
