Sutan turned her head instinctively.
"Er-ya! It really is you!" Wang Baozhen rubbed her eyes in disbelief; she had almost failed to recognize her daughter just a moment ago.
Sutan looked down at the hand clutching her sleeve. It was wrinkled, like a bird’s claw, covered in chilblains of all sizes, with grime caked under the fingernails. The woman’s cotton-padded jacket was washed thin, covered in patches on the front and back.
Chapter 49