Song Zhen pondered for a moment.
He must have found an elderly person left on the deserted island for some years.
He took out his cellphone and found a picture of Gu Xinzhou's daily life, asking, "Have you seen the girl in this picture?"
The old woman looked closely, then pointed at a more elegantly designed house, "Xiaoliang's daughter, fell into the sea half a month ago and was picked up by our villagers, then she has been taken care of in Xiaoliang's house ever since!"
Song Zhen felt as if he had been struck by a point.
He couldn't even blink.
Tears as large as soybeans bravely fell, tracing down his poetically handsome face.
It wasn't until the old woman cried again, "That's great! I can return to my country, I can go back, I can return to my roots!"
A sequence of cries finally pulled Song Zhen's thoughts back.
He stiffly got up and followed the direction the old woman had pointed out, step by step, with difficulty, he moved toward the house.
