Yolanda Fern seemed to have no reaction, she stood on the Ferris wheel, her gaze dull.
Looking down from where she stood, she could see the end-of-winter scenery and the city stretching to the horizon.
Tall buildings, bare trees, and withered grass.
Landon, it was still the Landon from her early childhood memories.
Back then, Landon was beautiful in her eyes, no matter spring, summer, fall, or winter, each season offered different sights.
Flower viewing in spring, wind listening in summer, chrysanthemum picking in autumn, snow appreciating in winter.
The world during her childhood didn't have so many complexities, nor so many worldy pleasures and vile human hearts.
She longed for the Landon of her five-year-old self, missed the carefree and simple joy of that time.
After the age of five, she never experienced happiness again.
Landon became a nightmare in her world, one she couldn't shake off.
