The wind from the north brought the rough feeling of gravel outside the customs, blowing on my face like a dull knife cutting flesh.
Ruan Ruan was sitting in the back seat of a black Steppank car. The lotus-colored cheongsam with dark magnolia embroidery on her body was the finest silk and satin in the south of the Yangtze River. However, it could not resist the pervasive chill at this moment. She folded the cashmere shawl on her arms, and her fingertips were cold.
