The father and daughter turned their heads in unison.
Outside the small courtyard, from the depths of the flowers spread to the surrounding walls, there was a natural wooden fence in its original wooden color.
A figure stood there, not knowing how long they had been watching, hands still poised as if knocking on the fence.
Those hands were lovely, adorned with nails painted in gentle hues. The slim, beige trench coat was chic, and moving my eyes upward, I saw long, black curls, almond-shaped eyes with ruby lips, bearing little trace of the passage of years.
Then she curved her lips into a smile, her sophistication evident from her fingertips to her hair strands, and her voice was sweet and soft, "Mr. Tang, who do you think Jinjin should like best?"
Fuck.
Seeing someone familiar.
The serious façade of indifference could no longer hold.
Tang Chuang kept his composure, feeling a tingling on his scalp, his arm around Little Milk Jin growing slightly stiff.
