Mo Shangjun leaned against the wooden cabin door, turning her head to watch the special forces members bustling around the courtyard.
No.
Tonight, they were just a group of ordinary people without their uniforms, each with different personalities, spirited young men and beautiful women, some talkative, some reserved.
Tang Shi, Zuan Qu, and Song Ci were busy at the barbecue grill, manipulating the skewers. The burning charcoal made the meat sizzle, and a wisp of smoke rose as oil dripped onto the charcoal. Zuan Qu and Song Ci immediately pulled Tang Shi aside to avoid the smoke. Tang Shi, with sweat on his nose, watched them with a smiling gaze.
Bu Yirong and Su Bei were counting and organizing all the ingredients they had brought, occasionally whispering a few words when they got closer, the atmosphere neither intense nor calm. Suddenly, a gust of wind ruffled Su Bei's short hair, and Bu Yirong pulled her over to tidy it up.
