"Even in situations like passing notes or writing love letters, which are relatively innocent?"
The old lady still shook her head, with a certain firmness in her tone: "I've never heard of it."
"There were playmates from childhood, but it was all just child's play, nothing to do with emotions."
Zhang Biao leaned forward slightly, "Ma'am, please think carefully again."
"Even fragments are fine—like whether she ever had mood swings because of a certain boy, or frequently mentioned someone's name?"
"Or, was there anyone who pursued her but was rejected by her?"
The old lady lowered her eyes, her clasped hands tightened.
After a long while, she raised her eyes, "No, really no."
"All these years, she's never brought any other boy home, the only one she brought back to introduce us to was Zhang Yong."
"Beyond that...I can't remember anything."
