The police car with the peaked cap and the portly figure whistled away.
The child was still crying, but his cries were much softer than before.
The disheveled mother with tears streaming down her face gently patted her recovered child, sitting powerless on a stone stool by the roadside, her eyes blurred with tears still looking towards the departing couple.
The young man was dressed in a black robe, seemingly a roguish swordsman of Jianghu.
The young woman wore a white Hanfu dress, which, even though soiled and dusty, still made her seem like a fairy.
In the afternoon sunshine, the two figures seemed like celestial beings from Jianghu who had fulfilled their mission and were now retiring from the world.
The mother tilted her head to look at the child, now asleep in her arms, and the tears began to fall once more.
…
"How did you figure it out?"
Looking back, He Sichen seemed to be still angry, his jaw clenched tight.
His appearance was one of grinding teeth.
