That was an oil painting.
The deep blue seaside, with the tide carrying the white foam pushing toward the boundless horizon.
On the beach, a woman's silhouette stood quietly, her figure soft and beautiful, her white long dress fluttering with the sea breeze, elegant and beautiful to the extreme.
At the lower left corner of the canvas, there were two characters, "True Love."
True, Love.
It was uncertain whether this was the name of the painter or the title of the work.
Jiang Shuyao's heart was touched, and she couldn't help but reach out her fingertips to touch the canvas.
The silhouette in the painting was familiar yet strange.
Like, yet unlike.
Or perhaps it was just a coincidence, but she still couldn't take her eyes off of it.
"Miss, what do you think of the person in the painting?"
A cold, standard Mandarin accent brought Jiang Shuyao's thoughts back to reality.
She slowly turned her head and met a pair of deep light blue pupils behind the glasses.
