The autumn chill settled in. Shen Jing wrapped her light coat tighter around her and walked ahead of Zhou Luchen. "I saw a photo of your mother in Hong Kong," she said. "She's such a gentle beauty with classic features. How come you're not gentle at all, Zhou Luchen?"
He didn't resemble his mother, nor his father. Not a trace of their genes seemed to be in him.
The streetlights flickered on, and the ginkgo trees along Yihe East Road rustled, their leaves casting fleeting shadows. Zhou Luchen strolled with one hand in his pocket, his pace unhurried, his gaze fixed intently on the young woman walking ahead of him.
"Mrs. Cao?" he asked.
Shen Jing nodded.
Under the streetlight, the breeze ruffled her hair. They weren't far apart, and it seemed they could both catch the faint scent of osmanthus. The fragrance from the osmanthus trees at the Yuquan Courtyard still clung to her. Perhaps she had been reserved at dinner, but she had still sneakily tasted the osmanthus wine.
