At that moment, they came to a crossroads ahead.
Amo gently applied the brakes, slowing down the car, and the breeze that blew in through the window also became much gentler.
It brushed against Qiaoqiao, lifting her ponytail tied at the back of her head, strand by strand, fluttering in the wind.
The car came to a complete stop, the wind continued to blow, very softly, very gently.
The ponytail at the back of her head, however, was still swaying.
This red light lasted for seventy-two whole seconds.
Although it was extremely long, to Amo, it was very fleeting.
He just quietly watched her, the morning sun of autumn shining on her head, casting a ray of floating light.
She was smiling joyously within this floating light, her gaze happily looking out the car window, and in her smile, there was still that deep, mesmerizing dimple.
At thirty-one, she still had youthful vibrancy, like a young girl.
