A low, mellow chuckle came from behind her, "I didn't expect you to discover it this early."
Ming Mei responded with a small smile, "You are always different from Sister Zhao."
The lake's surface reflected the sunset, a wash of golden red. When the water rippled, it was breathtakingly beautiful; she didn't look back but kept her gaze on the lake's surface.
She could always tell when the person pushing her wheelchair changed, even if they switched with utmost care and almost no pauses that it seemed as seamless as drifting clouds and flowing water.
However, everyone's style of exerting force is different, let alone the difference between a man and a woman, right?
Ming Mei could vividly feel the change a pair of hands brought, it had become steadier. She could sense the tenderness.
He would slow down at the scenic spots, allowing her to take a longer look.
This was a romantic and careful consideration that Sister Zhao lacked.