Back to the 1970s: F

Sixty-year-old Ning Ran sat under the wisteria in her small courtyard, her white hair as graceful as a crane. She lay leisurely on a reclining chair, drowsiness washing over her.,A gruff voice came from beside her, and Ning Ran frowned in displeasure.,"Ning Qing, can you hear me when your mother is speaking to you"。