Her focus stayed locked on the portrait, and that was why she didn't notice the sound of a voice until it was already too close.
"Are you… My son's daughter?"
The voice was deep, laced with the wisdom of someone who had lived long enough to feel no emotions.
Su Jiyai froze. Every hair on her body stood on end.
She snapped her head around instantly; her eyes carried a trace of alertness she rarely showcased.
What she saw made her stiffen even more.
A man stood there.
His hair was black, shoulder-length, and falling loosely around his face.
His skin was pale, his features handsome, but faint wrinkles touched the corners of his eyes.
Though he looked like he could pass for a man in his forties, Su Jiyai knew better.
This aura… this pressure… This man had lived far more years than his face revealed. He was definitely older than five centuries.
And most shocking of all, his face resembled the man in the portrait.
