The old servant woman in the kitchen began to prepare the table for the morning meal. Lin had been waiting for her daughter to come in for a long time, so she walked to the door of the main room in curiosity and saw her standing under the peach tree in the courtyard with her little head up. She was wearing a pink jacket and her hair had been combed into two buns on top of her head.
Alston, armed with his heavy sword and dressed in his magnificent robe, strode aggressively into the bathroom. Almost instantly, his eyes were locked on the young man who was lying naked at the edge of the bath.
As Meng Lisheng looked at Chen Yuanming, Chen Yuanming was also carefully looking at the man in front of him. In his past life, he had seen Meng Lisheng’s photos in the Economic Weekly website newsletter. The man in those photos always appeared fatigued. Age and puffiness had already changed his temperament, leaving only the desolation of a man in his twilight years.
Song Jianing vowed that she would never eat lychee again in her life. If she really wanted to eat it, she would eat it slowly, but absolutely not in a carriage.
In the scorching heat of June, a carriage moved slowly along the country road leading to the capital. The body of carriage, which was engraved with the emblem of ” Wèi guó gōng fǔ”, was covered in a vermilion lacquer and looked solemn and imposing. However, because there were four palace guards in front of the carriage and behind it, its occupants looked like they were under detention.
Their speed going back was twice as fast as the trip in. In the sky, the sun had just set and the two were sitting in an elegant private room in a hotel. This time, without any outsiders present, the atmosphere between them was more harmonious than before. After ordering their meal, Xiao Junyi leaned back in his chair and looked at the teenager in front of him with great interest.
While there were differences in aesthetics between different races, in general, there were still some commonalities.
Stepping out of the hotel doors, Xiao Junyi’s motorcycle was parked at the side of the road. Unlike the Suzuki B-King and Honda CBR’s that were popular in Shanghai, this kid’s bike was An American style Honda CBX125. From the perspective of someone from a future generation, this style of bike was clearly more in line with Chen Yuanming’s aesthetics. It was just that riding motorcycles without a helmet was normal in this era, so it inevitably felt like he was courting death.
Duan Xiubo turned off the TV, and the noise from the speakers ended abruptly. He threw the remote control onto the coffee table and nestled his whole body into the sofa while holding on to his cell phone to look at the time.