"Uncle Ruan, you should go back," a gentle voice, as serene as water, came from the entrance not far away as a simply dressed middle-aged woman in her forties entered.
Although she was in her forties, the years had scarcely left any trace on her face. Despite now having a hint of weariness and weathering, these only seemed to accentuate her mature, intellectual beauty.
She was a woman with the disposition of still water, her voice as frail and tender as it had always been, evoking a sense of pity and a desire to protect her. But to those who truly knew her, they understood that the gentler she appeared, the more stubborn and resolute she could be. It was just like when she had left Capital City alone all those years ago without a fuss or complaint, only a firm resolve in her heart.
