"Bullshit!" A Yin couldn't restrain herself, breaking the startled air. Chun Ping, startled, drew her shoulders up; her pupils hadn't shrunk the slightest bit, and her eyelids trembled, looking at her with extreme restraint. In her eyes, A Yin drew her spirit back, her sternum rapidly sinking, and she lowered her voice, furrowing her brows. "Think carefully; could it possibly be that you're confused? Passing this start of the year is only barely reaching the fifteenth year of Minguo; were these past ten years wasted?" She added, "President Sun passing at the start of the year, do you remember it or not?" Chun Ping swallowed a mouthful of saliva, her gaze flickering with anxiety, and she gazed at Song Shijiu, with her brows tightly knitted, and only then thinly said, "Sun-xiansheng isn't in my memories at all." It was as if a fog had risen in her clear eyes, doubtfully and indistinctly looking at everything; the great freneticness ...