Wen Nuan slowly walked toward the tombstone while Ye Feimo and the woman in white stood still, only she moved forward, the surroundings quiet with no other sound but the rustling of leaves in the wind, fresh yet tinged with a hint of heaviness.
The words on the tombstone gradually became clear, "The Tomb of Long Xiushui."
A few simple words allowed Wen Nuan to deduce that Long Xiushui had died over a decade ago. Calculating the time, coincidentally, it was when she was four years old that Long Xiushui had died, Wen Nuan furrowed her brows.
The person was dead, yet there was no photo on the tombstone, only an epitaph.
The lilies were still blooming beautifully, covered in numerous dewdrops. Wen Nuan thought to herself, those lilies must have been placed by her mother.
