Isabella chuckled lightly, "Yes, yes, boss, you are the busiest." He leaned against the wall, looking at James Mason's calm face, raised his hand and took another sip of the liquor.
The Russian winter was still something he couldn't get used to.
He thought of his hometown, a small town in the Americas where it was spring all year round, where even in winter the grasslands were lush, never as cold as it was here.
But that small town, he would never be able to return to.
They were all the same, forced to transform into what they were now. Even if they nostalgically cherished the past, it could only remain a memory.
Perhaps James still thought of Iris Harris, but unless he died, he could only remember her in his heart.
Just like that perpetually warm spring town in his memory, each person carried the most beautiful things within them, and when they couldn't hold on any longer, they would take them out to remind themselves to persist, just a little longer——
