As the door closed with a click, silence returned to the room. Jin Ze held the same pose and expression he had when Qin Yinan left for a long time as he stared at the closed door. Then, he slowly moved his gaze away to fall on the document on the table. He bent down to pick up a cigar, lit it, and walked slowly toward the window.
Beijing at night was as bright as day, but for some reason, even wreathed in light, there was an undercurrent of melancholy to everything.
Jin Ze took a slow draft of the cigar and puffed out a beautiful smoke ring. Looking at the glittering lights, the man who normally only had time for the present and future suddenly found himself reminiscing about the past.
