The black Rolls-Royce Phantom travels on the city's elevated roads, its interior cozy and warm.
Wen Wanzi never thought that the woody scent from Bao Yancheng could be so invasive.
In the confined space of the car, it seemed to envelop her entirely.
No one spoke, and Wen Wanzi couldn't help feeling a bit tense.
It was already winter in Beijing, and the whole day had been overcast.
Wen Wanzi looked back at the venue of the fashion show, the lights almost illuminating the night sky.
She smiled lightly, filled with emotion.
Bao Yancheng glanced at Wen Wanzi from the corner of his eye; her gentle profile as she stared absently in the rearview mirror resembled the oil painting he created.
In the past few years, she seemed to have not changed at all.
But he no longer dares to reach out and touch her; it seems like a desecration.
Bao Yancheng spoke softly, "Wanzhi, it's snowing."
Wen Wanzi's train of thought was interrupted by the sudden voice, and she snapped back to reality.