Before she could figure out why she had come from the side hall to the small wooden house, she saw a woman in a light blue dress carrying a wooden basin walk into the house.
"Who are you?"
The woman turned around, and Madam Jia saw a long scar on her face.
She shouted, "Who are you?!"
The woman smiled at her, "Auntie, I'm Wenjun. Don't you recognize me?"
After removing her hairpins and jewelry, the old lady Jia's face showed the marks of time, and the wrinkles on her face made her look ferocious.
She shouted, "You're not!"
Chen Wenjun died long ago. How could she still look like a little girl after all these years!
Who are you? How dare you play tricks in the Empress Dowager's palace!
As soon as Madam Jia finished speaking, she immediately realized, "No, I'm dreaming."
"Yes, I'm dreaming!"
The woman before her smiled without fading, her voice like a nightingale's. She coaxed softly, "Why don't you pinch yourself and see if you're dreaming?"
Upon hearing this, Madam Jia did as instructed. She pinched her thigh hard, and after feeling the pain, cold sweat instantly broke out like bamboo shoots after a spring rain.
She actually felt pain!
At this moment, she could no longer distinguish between truth and falsehood.
She kept telling herself that Chen Wenjun was already dead, and even if she wasn't, she couldn't possibly have stayed young.
On the one hand, I feel confused and fearful about the perception of pain.
In her excitement, she felt a sudden darkness before her eyes, followed by a feeling of weightlessness.
Seeing her like this, Lu Qiqi stopped smiling, took her pulse, and fed her a heart medicine.
Then, with obvious disgust, he threw her out of the space.
At that time, the side hall was still pitch black.
Lu Qiqi lit a candle and looked at the old woman with white hair lying on the quilt, a sharp glint in her eyes.
She thought to herself, 'You old witch, you'll see tomorrow!'
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