The woman chuckled, her arms crossed before her chest. “It’s weird for you to imitate the speech patterns of this era. Would you just speak normal Mandarin?”

A smile bloomed on her face, and joy lit up her eyes, breaking her calm mask.

Lin Haihai widened her eyes. Normal Mandarin? Tears fell out her eyes, and she covered her mouth, watching the woman approach. Yang Shaolun looked at the woman warily until he realized that she was tearing up.

The woman stood quietly before Lin Haihai. The August sun shone gently on her face, casting the shadow of the rustling tree leaves. Her smile was colored by faint traces of sorrow, reminiscent of the way Yu Qing had looked the day she entered school as a freshman with September sun shining on her youthful face through the canopy. Lin Haihai would recognize the soft sorrow on her face anywhere!

“You really are a cry baby, Lin Haihai!” The woman reached out to gently wipe away the crystal-clear tears from Lin Haihai’s fair face. She wasn’t used to seeing her old friend wearing this stunning face, but thankfully Lin Haihai had maintained traces of herself, and she...