Across from the old street, a large crowd of elderly, women, and children stood dazed, watching the fire that swept everything away.
Among them were a few men in suits, exuding an extraordinary presence.
Yang Fei immediately saw Sun Weiren in the crowd.
After three months, he seemed a bit more mature, supporting a trembling old lady.
The old lady was about sixty-four or sixty-five years old, with white hair like silver, and a benevolent face.
Even in the chaos caused by the fire, her expression remained calm.
Looking at the old lady's facial features, she must have been a true beauty in her youth.
Even with such advanced age, she still radiated a calm elegance that seemed unflappable by honor or disgrace, a serenity gained over the years.
In her hands, she counted a string of prayer beads, appearing noble and elegant amidst the surrounding of her many children and grandchildren.
The fire was fierce.
