Christmas, a Western holiday, was nothing special to Zheng yuluo.
No Festival could make her happy. On the contrary, she would feel a strong sense of guilt every time there was a Festival.
She bought some gifts and took a taxi to Jing Yiran's Villa.
Jing Yiran was the only one in the villa and it felt empty. Zheng yuluo's heart was empty, just like the villa.
"Uncle Jing, I'm here to see you."
"Luoyu, didn't you say you didn't need to come? It's so cold, you should go home!"
For so many years, Zheng yuluo would come to see him on every holiday. Jing Yiran had been cold to her at first, thinking that it was all because of her. But he also knew that Zheng yuluo had been under a lot of pressure. Time had shown her true colors and she was no longer the stubborn little girl she had been before.
Now, when Jing Yiran saw Zheng yuluo, although they were not very close, he was not as cold as he had been before.
