Gong Ting paused in his steps. The only woman he had carried on his back in his memory was Ning'er. At that time, she wasn't really a woman; to be precise, she was still a girl. A five-year-old girl's weight couldn't compare to an adult woman's; it felt like carrying a baby doll.
Thinking of this, his heart inexplicably softened.
He hoisted her up a bit and slowly walked back. "Twenty years ago, I carried your Sister Ning."
Xiao Yu was stunned for a moment, not expecting him to answer her question. She looked at the back of his head, neatly trimmed, and after a moment of silence, said: "You knew Sister Ning that early?"
"Yeah." Gong Ting laughed at himself, "Knowing her early doesn't mean much; it's not like someone else didn't snatch her away first?"
Xiao Yu: "..."
Seeing his lonely back, Xiao Yu hesitated for a moment and comforted, "It's okay, even if you've lost a red rose, there are still a whole field of flowers."
