Liang Yanting stepped aside, and behind him, holding a phone, was Bai Heshu.
She wore a black wool coat reaching her ankles, a dark green low-necked sweater, and around her neck, a color-contrasting silk scarf.
If not for her sorrowful expression and the faint traces of tears on her face, Bai Heshu, appearing in public like this, undoubtedly exuded elegance and radiance.
But at that moment, her clear eyes bore an age-inappropriate world-weariness, making one immediately feel that she surely had many stories.
Fu Mingyu and Nuan Nuan were standing in front of the sofa, both stunned.
Nuan Nuan had left Bai Heshu when she was three, and memories of her mother had long blurred into an indistinct shadow over the years.
So, although she knew the woman in front of her might be her mother, Bai Heshu, Nuan Nuan felt a sense of disbelief.
