Jasmine Yale ate the entire bowl of noodles without interruption from start to finish.
Her stomach full, her body warmed up.
Outside, the sun was still shining brightly, and the white clouds drifted gently with the wind, with light streaming through the clouds and casting golden hues everywhere.
The leaves had already turned yellow and dry; when the wind blew, the branches and leaves rustled, like a symphony.
Jasmine Yale walked from the noodle shop towards the intersection.
Along the way, there were students everywhere, and Jasmine watched the people coming and going happily, her mood lifted.
Her steps, too, became lighter.
But when her gaze fell on the black Maybach at the intersection, her fingers involuntarily clenched.
He hasn't left yet?
Standing outside, she couldn't see inside the car—she couldn't see anything.
Before Jasmine could react, her phone rang.
It was a call from Sylvan Cheney from the car.
