"Zuo Chong, tomorrow you..." As Yuan Ming's mother spoke, she walked into the study. The moment her eyes met Yuan Ming's, she froze.
Yuan Ming's mother had no talent for cultivation and had always been an ordinary person. Once a woman of outstanding beauty, she could not escape the ravages of time. Her skin was no longer smooth and tender; her figure had become somewhat thin. Wrinkles crawled across her forehead and the corners of her eyes, and her once black hair now bore many strands of white.
She looked at Yuan Ming, her body trembling, unable to speak. Tears fell in large drops, quickly soaking her cheeks.
She slowly walked towards Yuan Ming, carefully touching his cheek with her hand, not daring to apply any pressure, as if afraid that everything she was seeing was just a dream, that she might awaken if she pressed too hard.
