Mianmian blinked at Mr. Jing, but bravely stepped forward and walked over.
Mr. Jing bent down to look at her, staring at her as if she were some rare treasure he had never seen before. As Mianmian approached, the old man, whose nose and eyes were already red from a slight cold, trembled as he reached out to touch Mianmian's little face.
He was checking if she was real.
The sensation under his hand was Mianmian's soft and warm little face, chubby and tender.
Mr. Jing couldn't believe it, placing both hands by her ears, carefully cradling the child's head as he looked at her seriously and attentively: "She indeed looks very much like Jihan when he was little. How did I not see it back then? She looked familiar, but I didn't dare think this way. My great-grandchild, my little great-grandchild..."
As he spoke, he gently stroked Mianmian's hair, his elderly eyes filled with excitement, while looking up at Mrs. Jing, who still had a stern face: "How did you all end up together?"
