Isabella was startled; language is easy?!
She found learning a language much harder than painting.
It seems everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. She was quite satisfied to have found something she was better at than Harry Hunter.
The little towns in Italy were clean and beautiful, with many places as stunning as medieval oil paintings. The sunset hung on the horizon, painting huge clouds red—a sight to behold.
Isabella never dreamt she could walk arm-in-arm with a prince-like man, leisurely strolling here.
Half a year ago, she was still a poor student with nothing, doing various part-time jobs, and selling a painting for two thousand yuan made her incredibly happy.
Everything changed when she met him.
The man by her side was tall and upright. Although it was summer, he wore crisp dress pants and a long-sleeved white shirt, exuding an aura of aristocratic elite.
