Ye Qing's emotions were roiling beneath his pupils, and it was evident he was trying to control himself.
Jiang Yan offered a faint smile and gave him a comforting look. "I... I'm okay."
"That's good," Ye Qing's lips pursed as he averted his gaze from her face.
"Whoo—" With a low whistle, the train began to move forward.
The window was open, leaving a gap of a meter or two between it and the chiseled cliffside.
As the train sped up, cold wind whistled in.
Everyone felt chilly, but no one wanted to shut the window.
Having stayed in the Underground City like ants for too long, even feeling the natural wind had become a luxury.
Jiang Yan reached up to manage her wind-tousled hair and turned to look out the window.
Through the gloomy tunnel, there was a flurry of activity in the conference room on the other side—it seemed they were setting up a projector and screen.
She didn't see Song Qian; it looked like he was going to miss this train.