Two horse carriages, one following the other, turned around the alley corner. They were heading in the direction of the front gate of the Duke of Zhen's mansion.
"Mother's here."
Lin Qingluo's eyes lit up. She ran up to greet them, hopped on the carriage, parted the curtain to slip into the car, and dove into Ye Xue'e's arms like a baby pigeon.
"Qingluo, my darling, Mother missed you dearly."
As Ye Xue'e embraced her soft and warm daughter, her eyes turned red instantly and her tears uncontrollably streamed down.
"Qingluo also missed Mother."
Lin Qingluo snuggled in her mother's arms, immersed in the long-lost warmth.
This sweet moment lasted briefly.
A slender jade finger, filled with deep resent, poked on her forehead.
Ye Xue'e dabbed the tears in her eyes with a handkerchief and pretended to be angry, reprimanding: "You child, being gone for months without even writing a letter home."
"Mother, it's not that Qingluo didn't want to write."