In the military off-road vehicle, Titus Zane and Max Locke sat together in the back seat, at Locke’s request, of course.
As the off-roader slowly drove away, Locke turned his head to look at the cool-faced Titus Zane. "Your personality really isn’t anything like your mother’s."
When she looked over, there was obvious confusion, but then she remembered everyone saying she was the daughter of "Little Nuo," and she politely pursed her lips without saying much.
Locke had already turned his gaze back, looking ahead, his eyes reflecting a distant look, "Your mother was a lively and cheerful girl, very likable..."
Furrowed her brow again, sensing something different in Locke’s words.
Then she heard Locke sigh deeply, "Alas, what a pity, a beauty with a tragic fate."
Whether it was just her imagination or not, Titus Zane noticed that when the uniformed officer before her said this, a subtle different shade flickered in his eyes—it looked like regret, but actually seemed more like... sorrow.
Could it be that he and Little Nuo...
Lost in musing, she saw Locke turn back to her. His normally stern face, at this moment, looked kind, even his brows and eyes softened.
"You look a lot like your mother, but also not quite. Your mother had a more classical look, while you have a more Western appearance, perhaps inheriting some traits from your father."
Remembering Abigail Zimmerman never willing to reveal the truth to her, now unexpectedly someone brought up her mother of their own accord, how could Titus Zane let this opportunity pass?
Licking her lips, she ventured to ask, "Could you... tell me more about my mother?"
"Ah!" Another sigh, Locke turned away again, a traditional soldier, even when sitting in his private vehicle, maintained a proper posture, his hands resting naturally on his knees as he looked forward.
"Your mother was very smart and excellent, it’s just that she had the misfortune of meeting the wrong people!"
Titus Zane was even more puzzled—it seemed that this man was also implying that her mother’s misfortune was due to her father.
Abigail Zimmerman had said so, and now this man said the same. Titus Zane smiled and asked,
"Uncle, by ’meeting the wrong people’, are you referring to my father?"
Locke turned back again, when he looked at Titus Zane, his eyes lingered on her upturned lips as if he was looking through her at someone else.
"Uncle?" Seeing Locke daydreaming towards her, Titus Zane called out to remind him. Locke came back to his senses and said with a smile, "Let’s not dredge up the past, it’s too melancholy."
Titus Zane realized that apparently everyone was reluctant to talk about her mother’s past. She wondered why—could it be that her mother had some unspeakable secret in her youth?
Before she had more time to think about it, Locke spoke again, his furrowed brows betraying his confusion, "Your father is in T city, why did you come to work in Banyan City?"
"Ah, I was quite wayward when I was young, I didn’t like economics management, and I studied art instead..."
"This you have inherited from your mother." Titus Zane hadn’t finished speaking, when Locke interrupted her, his eyes twinkling with a gentle smile.
The images that frequently appeared in her dreams surfaced in her mind—a woman sitting in front of an easel on the lawn...
"Uncle, I don’t have a deep memory of my childhood, but I often dream of a woman with flowing long hair painting on the lawn." For the first time, Titus Zane shared with someone else the dream that had troubled her for many years.
"There you have it," Locke said with a laugh, "your mother did love to have long hair, and never found it bothersome, always down to her waist. I told her to cut some off, but she refused."