PREVIEW
... rise upon seeing the visitor.
Xia Wan’an: "Auntie."
"Do you need something from me?" Han Qingqing’s voice was soft and gentle as she smiled, as soothing as a spring breeze.
As she spoke, she moved her wheelchair aside with one hand, opening the door wider: "Come in and talk."
The living room was cluttered with oil paintings, and on the easel by the window, there was an unfinished piece.
All of the oil paintings had one thing in common: they all featured a ...
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