On the phone, Lu Xiaoer said she had a paper to write, but her tone was hesitant, and Tang Xiaohua immediately sensed something!
Even if it were a paper, it couldn’t be more important than her, who hadn’t seen each other properly for several years, could it?
"Okay, I’ll tell the truth, I have a date..."
"It’s Zhongli Wuchi!"
Tang Xiaohua suddenly laughed, not minding at all that her best friend was snatched away by Zhongli Wuzhi, instead, she was rather pleased to see it happen, "Alright then, I won’t insist, we can meet up some other time."
Lu Xiaoer agreed, and the two chatted a bit more before hanging up the phone.
Xiao Hua learned from the call that Zhongli Wuzhi had gone to Dongheng Disaster Area and volunteered for an entire month, the debonair Zhongli Wuzhi of Anlin City had returned looking like a down-and-out migrant worker.
Thinking of that image, Tang Xiaohua found it amusing.
Lu Xiaoer was not available, but Brother Lu had plenty of time.
So, they agreed to have dinner at a Chinese restaurant in the center of Anlin City at six in the evening.
On March 28th, Tang Xiaohua rarely slept in, but even being lazy, she woke up at half-past seven.
Years of military life had shaped her biological clock, something that couldn’t be changed overnight.
But it was better than before, always sleeping until noon, then lazily getting up to have lunch... the years were wasted just like that.
In Anlin City, winter is always long, and spring lasts only a few days, less than half a month before the temperature starts to rise.
She and Wen Nian were born in this brief spring.
After washing up, she took the time to properly comb her hair, which had grown to her neck—summer was coming, and it was almost time for a haircut.
She stood by the window; this room was next to the master bedroom, and the view from this window was no different from the master bedroom’s.
When she was reborn, she was thirty-three years old, four years had passed—by all accounts, she should be thirty-seven years old this year... To think about it was truly incredible, and a bit... horrifying.
Perhaps because of her appearance, or maybe because of the way others looked at her, she seemed to have regressed a few years, instead of becoming more mature and steady as she should have.
These four years were obviously more cheerful and splendid than when she was thirty in her past life.
Is it not quite appropriate to use "the older, the younger" in this context?
She smiled to herself.
She put on a T-shirt, threw on a plaid shirt, wore jeans and sneakers, and tied her hair back with a thin rubber band—couldn’t be more simple.
She went to the restaurant for breakfast, and to her surprise, the chef brought out a bowl of noodles,
"Guard Tang, happy birthday."
Tang Xiaohua was stunned for a moment, then quickly smiled and said, "Thank you."
As Qu Yu had said, Wen Nian was busy at an international conference all day, and she spent the morning teasing the police dogs in the residential area’s garden.
After lunch, she was on her own in the room, organizing her little notebook.
Sometime after two o’clock, she stood at the window and stretched. She saw a group of about twenty diplomats walking in the garden centered around Wen Nian, discussing the international situation while walking...
He was in a suit and leather shoes, his black hair neatly trimmed, his height of 1.85 meters was also considered tall among Westerners.
One hand was in his trouser pocket, the other gesticulating... speaking eloquently.
The warmth of his smile always lingered at the corners of his mouth, the gracefulness of a modest gentleman.
Under the sunlight, his pupils constricted, but his amber eyes appeared magnified. His sharp brows revealed his edge, setting off the bright luster of his azure eyes.
"Of course, the UK will respect the decisions of all nations, not to mention those that are centered on long-term policies for world peace."
Wen Nian, standing still, was directly facing the window where Tang Xiaohua was. He was talking to a British representative as tall as him, in a fluent and pure British accent.
The British representative kept nodding in agreement with Wen Nian’s comments...
Several international media representatives around were continuously taking photos and recording.
Tang Xiaohua stood on the third floor, staring at Wen Nian, every movement, every gesture, even the slightest lift of his eyebrows, the curvature of his lips, left her utterly infatuated...
He at thirty and at forty were very different. Looking back... Wen Nian at thirty still seemed like a spirited and handsome young man.
She moved her lips, never expecting to make a sound, and just then, the Wen Nian standing below suddenly paused, and he looked up—