Shen Weimin had been watching Xu Changqing's expression closely ever since he started talking. One look told him she still hadn't remembered, or perhaps, she hadn't dreamed of that incident at all.
Otherwise, if she'd suddenly heard him mention that he'd kept a silk handkerchief of hers—a *white* silk handkerchief, at that—there's no way she would have this reaction. A woman as sharp as her would have jumped up already.
"Let me tell you a story first. There was this person." Shen Weimin scooted over, sitting down beside her. "At the end of the year when he was seven, he went back to his old hometown and met someone."
'Is he talking about me?'
"He really liked his second aunt's little nephew. That kid was not only clean but also quiet, not like the other little brats who chattered on and on endlessly.
