Mrs. Su's gaze lingered on that face for a moment before she quickly looked away.
Every time she saw a girl on the street with a figure similar to her daughter's, her heart would clench, only to be met with empty disappointment time and time again.
Hope would be kindled, only to be extinguished. That feeling of plunging from the clouds into a deep valley grew more agonizing with each instance.
She didn't dare to look again.
She was afraid—afraid that this time, just like the countless times before, it was just another case of mistaken identity born from her overwhelming longing.
She was afraid that if she ran after her, she would once again be met with a stranger's face that clearly said, "You've got the wrong person." She preferred to believe it was just a passerby who happened to look similar.
Mrs. Su turned around, her back to the street, and snapped at the servants, "Hurry up! What are you all dawdling for? It's almost dark!"
