Picking up the phone, she said, "Hello."
"Little Yao..."
The voice of an unfamiliar woman, carrying a gentle warmth, entered her ears like a strange strip of memory film, easily pulling Zhan Se into an unfamiliar world of constant recollection and longing. In that space, she felt bewildered, wanting to flee yet unable to resist drawing closer, curious to probe the truth about this woman—such was her complex sentiment towards her at the moment.
She understood, yet she could not avoid it.
If possible, she wished she had never known of her existence in this world.
Or, perhaps, that she could once again excise the memory segment that belonged to Tang Xinrou.
