C193 Nannan Is My Daughter

When Qin Tianming and I arrived at the sanatorium, Zhao Nanqian was sitting cross-legged under a maple tree, weaving a sweater. It was woven for children. She was weaving a sweater while humming a tune. With a smile on her face, a few strands of hair slid down and fluttered in the wind. Maple leaves fell down one by one and landed beside her. On her clothes