She stood under the shade of the trees, draped in patches of shadows, only her bright eyes visible, "Then why don't you tell me what the reality is?"
Not far away, there was a hubbub of voices, the lights had just been turned on, and high walls separated the tourists from the passersby. Their voices carried over from a distance, making the two of them seem even quieter, as if engulfed by the autumn night.
Wen Yangzhi stood before her, against the light. His tall figure was rimmed with a brilliant afterglow. Because he had drunk some alcohol, his speech was languorous:
"I haven't had any contact with her since I was seventeen. When she was twenty, there was a big crowd of us together, and during Truth or Dare I ended up having to dance with her—it was indeed in New York, and it was indeed on a rooftop, but it wasn't my intention."
She suddenly lost her anger:
"What about your twentieth birthday then?"
