But now, those eyes lost their focus and became empty.
The door was opened, and a burst of floral fragrance slipped into the room through the crack of the door and into Coleman's nose. Coleman stood behind the door, took a deep breath of the fragrance, and then asked: "Cherry, tell me, what color are they?"
Song Ci smiled and said, "I think, in your heart, they should be colorful and brilliant."
Coleman was stunned for a moment, then his ruthless lips slowly curled up, and he said sideways: "Cherry, welcome to my home."
Song Ci took Han Zhan's hand and said to Keleiman, "My husband is here too."
Coleman thought for a moment before saying, "Han Zhan?" His Chinese pronunciation was very unstandard, and Song Ci had to guess before he realized that he was talking about Han Zhan.
Han Zhan took the initiative to communicate with Coleman in French. He said, "Hello Coleman, I am Cherry's husband, Han Zhan." Han Zhan's French pronunciation was not very fluent, but he could express his meaning clearly and unambiguously.
Coleman nodded and said, "Welcome, Mr. Han."
Han Zhan and Song Ci entered the house together.
After entering the house, Song Ci immediately saw many photos hanging on the ancient wall in the living room.
Among dozens of photos, only three people appear frequently. One is the owner, Coleman, and the other is a blonde old woman who looks very similar to Coleman and has a very similar hooked nose. This should be Coleman's mother.
The other is Jiang Shiyu when he was young.
But among them, there was an unfamiliar male face. Song Ci pointed to one of the photos and asked Coleman, "Who is the man standing with you and my mother in the sixth photo in the third row? Coleman."
Coleman had memorized the photos on the wall by heart. He guessed which photo Song Ci was asking about and said, "That's Jiang Shifeng, your uncle."
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