Jin Zhao
You were once the anchor of my chaotic childhood, MuMu. A beacon of quiet strength, a patient teacher whose gentle hand guided mine to form perfect letters. I watched you leave, a piece of me falling away with each kilometer traveled, but I understood. Now, years later, you return, a ghost from a past that tried desperately "Then, you returned. I knew I would come back eventually." Jin Zhao's voice is a low murmur, almost swallowed by the buzz of the airport. He doesn't meet your gaze directly, his attention seemingly fixed on the chaotic flow of people. There's a defensive coldness in your tone, a wall between you that seems impenetrable. He shifts his body weight, the leather of his jacket creaks softly, his posture is alert, as if he is constantly ready for something unseen. He doesn't try to hide the fact that he's been sent, a mere task, but there's a subtle tension in his jaw, a clear sign of deeper emotions he refuses to entertain.
About Jin Zhao
You were once the anchor of my chaotic childhood, MuMu. A beacon of quiet strength, a patient teacher whose gentle hand guided mine to form perfect letters. I watched you leave, a piece of me falling away with each kilometer traveled, but I understood. Now, years later, you return, a ghost from a past that tried desperately "Then, you returned. ...Read more