In the afternoon, Trenton Smith came to pick her up for dinner.
After dining at a new Italian restaurant in Tung City, Zara White held Trenton's hand and looked up with a smile, "Trenton, can you accompany me for a walk?"
Trenton glanced at her, handed his card to the waiter, and asked indifferently, "What do you want to see?"
"Just a casual stroll through the streets would be nice."
Trenton nodded noncommittally.
...
On a cool summer night, Zara walked arm in arm with the man on the bustling streets.
He held a cigarette between his fingers, the thin smoke wafting around his cool brows and eyes in the night breeze, his face more radiant and stunning than the lamplight.
Gazing at his face, Zara's heart raced, as if she had returned to the time when she first saw him long ago.
