"Indeed," Pavlov nodded, "You can tell just by looking at the scenery, there's no other place with such beautiful grasslands, with such fertile black soil."
Wang Zhong nodded.
For some reason, looking at the grasslands under the afternoon sun, Wang Zhong suddenly felt a sense of melancholy.
Logically speaking, this was simply the homeland of Count Aleksei Konstantinovich Rokossovsky, while Wang Zhong's own homeland had no such vast grasslands, and the scenery was completely different.
Logically speaking, the outsider Wang Zhong should not feel melancholic for a mere place name.
At that moment, Ludmila and Nelly came down from the second carriage and stood by Wang Zhong.
Ludmila: "As a child, you were only not such a rascal when riding a horse."
"Eh?" Wang Zhong looked at his fiancée, "Really?"
"Yes, you would always let the reins go on horseback, letting the horse run on its own, then you'd spread your arms wide, feeling the wind like an idiot," she said.
