When Zhuo Minglan walked into Shang Bin's home, there was not a trace of expression on her face—neither sorrow nor joy.
Yet her hands, hidden within her sleeves, were clenched tightly into fists. Beneath her clothes, her body trembled faintly beyond her control. She was like a lone wolf targeted by a hunter, teetering on the edge of a mad rampage from hatred for the hunting rifle.
But Shang Bin's family of three still treated Zhuo Minglan warmly.
Just as before, Shang Bin's wife, Zong Lidan, took Zhuo Minglan's hand and invited her to dinner. She also asked with concern about Zhuo Minglan's plans for the future.
"Xiao Zhuo, I heard you'll be going to live in the United States soon, is that right? Oh my, then we really are fated! Duoduo and I are in New York too.
"Your husband works on Wall Street, right? Then we'll be living quite close to each other! You can come visit us after you get to the United States. By the way, once you're there, do you plan to continue studying? Or become a housewife?"
With her eyes lowered, Zhuo Minglan replied blandly, "I'll probably continue studying. At the very least, I need to get past the language barrier."
Zong Lidan smiled gently. "That's a good choice. Social roles in the United States are more clearly defined than they are here, and more realistic too. Only by improving yourself can you enjoy a better life.
"Since your husband became a top trader on Wall Street, his judgment in this area can't be wrong."
"..."
Both Zong Lidan's expression and her words made people feel as if they were bathing in a spring breeze, as though she were a female elder concerned about Zhuo Minglan's future.
But her daughter, Shang Yunduo, suddenly said,