Her eyes were dazzled by the glare, but she could still see the black Bentley, like a sovereign emerging from the darkness, cold and distinguished.
The oxygen in Lian Xinying's body seemed to be suddenly drained. Even without seeing who was inside the car, a voice in her heart was yelling a name: Yan Ye.
She desperately wanted to flee quickly, to avoid confrontation, but her feet felt as if they were filled with lead, too heavy to take a step.
Yan Ye turned off the high beams after she turned around.
In the moment she turned, he understood, it was her.
Although three years had passed, her silhouette, the way she turned, were all the same as before.
His heart clenched suddenly, and the pain started spreading through his body bit by bit, like poison, beyond the control of both body and reason.
The car finally stopped by her side.
He wanted to see if her face was still as naive.
