"Why didn’t you call before you came?" Julia Bluen countered.
She naturally wouldn’t say what she had just been thinking in front of Glades Horne.
Although Glades Horne was as gentle as usual, she caught a fleeting, barely noticeable trace of concern in the depths of his eyes.
After asking, she suddenly seemed to remember something and exclaimed softly, "My mobile phone is still in the room; I don’t have it with me. You didn’t try to call, did you? Didn’t you call the landline?"
Glades Horne just regarded her intently.
"Glades, have you eaten? Let’s eat together; I’m full. Keep Julia company," Scarlett Taylor said, a slight smile playing on her lips as she covered her mouth, then left the dining room to give the young couple some space.
Julia Bluen also ladled Glades Horne a bowl of soup and placed it before him.
Glades Horne continued to stare at her and did not immediately touch the soup.
It was quite some time before he said gravely, "From now on, keep your phone with you at all times, except when sleeping."
After saying this, he began to elegantly sip the soup.
His expression revealed none of his inner thoughts. Even his grave words were difficult to decipher.
"It feels a bit cumbersome to carry my phone around at home when I’m not going out," she said. "Mine is one of those larger models."
Glades Horne put down the soup bowl, glanced at her, and then pressed his lips together, remaining silent.
Seeing him press his lips together and fall silent, Julia Bluen instinctively stopped talking.
She served Glades Horne a bowl of rice, then applied herself to finishing the food in her own bowl.
The two did not speak further and simply ate in silence. Glades Horne would often put food Julia liked into her bowl, and sometimes she would help him with his. In the quiet dining room, the warm sunlight seeped in faintly, illuminating the subtle care between them.
As the wedding date approached, someone’s heart was particularly restless, but this restlessness was heavily veiled by his coldness.
That person was Major Marcel Horne.
In T City, the young couple Glades Horne and Julia Bluen were calmly having lunch. Meanwhile, in Tibet, Marcel Horne stood alone on the rooftop of the main five-story building in the Military Camp.
His back was to the entrance. His military uniform fit his robust figure neatly and impeccably. A cold, stern aura enveloped him from head to toe, seemingly intensifying the chill in the air.
His resolute, tanned face was grim. His hands were propped on the railing as he stared intently into the distance.
In just two more days, it would have been his older brother’s wedding—and hers.
He didn’t understand why his older brother hadn’t found this place yet. Had his older brother’s abilities declined, or was there another reason?
But if his older brother did find this place and discovered that Ruby Bluen had fled the wedding because of him, what would his older brother think of him?
Ruby Bluen had been here for a few days, and he hadn’t taken the initiative to call home to tell his family that she was with him. He knew that if he made that call, the entire Horne Family would be turned upside down. His brotherly bond with Glades Horne would suffer. What worried him even more was that the Horne Family might hurt Ruby Bluen.
For a family as large as the Horne Family, holding the title of T City’s foremost prestigious clan, their reputation was as important as their lives. If word of this got out, the Horne Family would lose face. Having lost face, they would become furious and undoubtedly harm Ruby Bluen.
Even though he knew she could never be his, he still wanted to protect her as much as possible, to prevent her from suffering even the slightest harm.
Since he had returned to the unit, no one from his family had called him. He didn’t know if the wedding had been canceled, or...
A wedding without a bride was ninety-nine percent certain to be called off.
Drawing back his hands from the railing, Marcel Horne pulled out his mobile phone and keyed in his home phone number. He gently pressed the green call button, but he hung up before it could connect.
He was afraid that with a slip of the tongue, he might reveal Ruby Bluen was with him.
The sound of soft footsteps reached his ears. He whirled around, his senses sharp.
She held a large bowl in her hands, full of steaming food.
Under his icy, almost predatory gaze, Ruby Bluen approached him step by step. "I didn’t see you at mealtime, so I asked Andrew Carter, and he said you were on the rooftop," she explained, lifting the large bowl of steaming food slightly and offering it to him. Looking at him, she urged, "Eat it while it’s hot. The temperature is very low here; it’ll be as cold as leftovers in a few minutes."
Marcel Horne did not take it.
He didn’t accept, but Ruby Bluen persisted in holding it out, refusing to withdraw her hand.
Unlike T City, there was no bright sun here. Thick clouds always cast a somber pall, making the entire sky seem gloomy, as if it were about to rain or snow. A strong wind, carrying a biting chill, whipped past everyone, leaving its iciness behind. Compared to T City in the south, Tibet’s weather was intolerably cold.
Ruby Bluen stood holding the bowl of food as if she were being punished. The biting wind gnawed at her fair hands. She felt very cold, and her lips were turning purple.
"Go back downstairs," Marcel Horne finally took the bowl of food she had kindly brought him. "It’s windy here," he added coldly.
"I want to look at the view." Seeing that he took the food she offered, Ruby Bluen felt a little happy. She walked beside him, stood at the railing, and, facing the strong wind, gazed out beyond the Military Camp. Tibet is vast but sparsely populated, and this area was even more so.
As far as the eye could see, people and buildings were few and far between, enhancing the sense of vastness.
Marcel Horne remained silent, quickly wolfing down the bowl of food in less than five minutes.
A napkin, faintly scented, was offered to him. Ruby Bluen said, her voice full of concern, "Eating too quickly affects absorption and is also bad for your stomach."
Marcel Horne remained silent. He quietly walked away from the railing to a faucet near the entrance and rinsed the bowl with some water. Although he couldn’t wash off all the grease, at least it didn’t look so unsightly.
After rinsing the bowl, he did not look at Ruby Bluen again and headed downstairs.