The Peach Family Ancestral Home

A black car came to a stop in front of an old house with white walls and black tiles. The two-meter-high white walls bore the marks of rainwater, and the wooden double doors were locked, covered in rust, with the faded and peeling New Year’s paintings on the door panels.

Xia Zhihuai parked the car at the entrance and glanced at the desolate old house, feeling a sense of nostalgia for a moment.

In just over a year of absence, the old house had faded from his memory at an unbelievable speed, exuding an atmosphere of dilapidation and desolation.

He turned around and opened the back door, carrying Wanwan, who was about to jump out of the car.

“Is this the ancestral home?”

Wanwan looked up at the towering walls, faintly glimpsing the small wooden building inside.

Xia Zhihuai put her down and patted her head. “I’ll go open the door.”