Zhi'er had only been waiting for five or six minutes.
Then she saw at the end of the mountain road that familiar Maybach coming with bright lights like a shadow of a leopard.
Stirring up the wind sounds through the mountains.
Afterward, Feng Fuce steadily stopped at the foot of the steps.
He rolled down the car window, and in the passenger seat, Feng Linxing's whole little face was full of displeasure.
"Mommy!" he hurriedly complained, "Dad drove the car like it was flying, speeding all the way."
Zhi'er laughed and ran down the steps. Feng Fuce took the initiative to unfasten his son's seat belt and baby seat, placing him in the back seat, letting his wife sit beside him.
As soon as they met, he tightly grasped her fingertips: "Why are your hands so cold? Didn't I tell you to wait for me at the temple?"
Zhi'er smiled: "All the tourists have left. I'm the last one. If I don't leave, the monks would keep me for a vegetarian meal; I'm not really hungry."
