Soon, happiness faded away, turning into a dim, yellow world. A face that looked very similar to her own appeared; Ling Rong knew that this person was her mother.
Mother was dressed in clothes that matched those worn by the old person she had seen that day, also splendid. She was running through the countryside, followed by a string of silvery laughter like cascading bells.
Latter on, a man appeared in the scene. This man was very kind to Mother, and Ling Rong knew that he was her father. His smile was gentle, as if one could wring tenderness out of it.
The two of them romped through the fields, their faces fraught with carefree smiles. Then, in a corner, Ling Rong saw that old person, still in the same attire, her face still so young, looking lovingly at her child with a kindly expression.
Ling Rong could almost feel that happiness, seemingly within reach, yet she felt like an onlooker, not knowing where she actually was.
"Is this okay?" one clad in white asked another.
