She found a shelter, the entrance of a mall, for herself. At present, many pedestrians were taking shelter from the rain here, and Yan Huan was on the edge with rain occasionally falling on her body. She was almost soaked, her hair plastered down to her neck wisp by wisp, and the raindrops gathered from her hair and fell down with a tock-tock, silently, making ripples.
Under the blue-gray sky, cars came and go and pedestrians walked by in a hurry due to the pressures of modern life.
She curled up. Some people left. Maybe they didn't want to wait for the weather to clear up so they took taxis, or were picked up by their relatives. Yan Huan lowered her head to look at her wet clothes. No taxi driver would want to take her. Even if someone would like to, she didn't want to make the seats dirty.
