Golden Fruit

When she arrived at the banquet, her eyes zeroed in on the young woman in blue robes, wearing the all-too-familiar veil.

'Song Jia!' Huang Yimu trembled slightly.

This look of Song Jia's is what was familiar to her.

'So it's really true that she's alive.' She then glanced at the elders near Song Jia.

The eldest, Song Qing, was the person she used to call Grandfather. And the two middle-aged looking men, Song Xia, whom she used to call Father and Song Huo, the Second Uncle.

But since the revelation that she was actually a part of the Huang clan, it no longer felt comfortable to say these to them.

It seemed that they, too, noticed her entrance, by the way they looked her way. It wasn't welcoming nor was it too hostile either.

They only looked at her apathetically.

She couldn't tell what was going on in their mind.