Jiang Yingyu held the bouquet in her hand as she walked into the restaurant through the door beside her. She couldn't actually see the other person and knew there was still a corridor to walk through, yet she felt as if she could hear his footsteps.
In fact, she couldn't hear a thing, it was just the knowledge that he was getting closer.
Yun Yuwan picked up her glass almost unconsciously and took a small sip of the hot rose tea.
She heard the sound of conversation coming from outside the glass conservatory, French, a natural exchange of pleasantries and laughter.
Her undergraduate studies in London were taught in English, and her master's in Ghent was in Dutch. Belgium indeed has a French-speaking region, but her French was a bit rusty, only understanding the basic vocabulary.
She could only make out a refreshing masculine voice and the cordial, laughing voice of a middle-aged man.
