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The car was filled with soothing music, an unnamed piano piece that mingled with the approaching and receding scenery, creating a uniquely different taste.
Fu Han had already imagined in her mind the scene when she would meet He Xing—would there be hugs, kisses? Or would they look at each other speechlessly, their eyes brimming with tears?
The airport was now in sight, with just an hour left before the plane would land.
There was still time, so Fu Xingbo suggested they have breakfast first.
Fu Han wasn't hungry at all, but she knew if she didn't go for breakfast, Fu Xingbo certainly wouldn't either; getting up early in the winter is difficult enough, and to do so on an empty stomach would be torture.
Fu Xingbo led Fu Han into a breakfast restaurant with coat racks, and explained to her with a smile, "This is actually a Chinese restaurant, just not as good as the ones back home. Just make do."
