When Lu Jingxing's call came through, Wen Nuan had just carried the drowsy Wen Keyan, who had once again lulled herself to sleep with a bedtime story, out of the hospital.
Her phone rang in her bag, she stopped in her tracks, cradled her daughter with one arm, took out her phone, and saw a string of numbers.
Even though four years had passed, she had never dialed it again.
But she recognized instantly that it was Lu Jingxing's mobile number.
Some people and things are forgotten over time.
But some, due to the bone-deep love, everything related to him is like it has merged into the flesh.
As long as one is alive, it follows like a shadow, impossible to forget.
Wen Nuan's gaze lingered on the number for a few seconds, then, without answering, she directly hung up, put her phone on silent, and slid it into her pocket.
She carried her daughter more securely and walked towards the hotel.