The wind was rising outside, and many leaves were falling from a few sycamore trees. Those leaves, with clear veins and blood-red color, were beautiful and enchanting.
Hong Ling deliberately chose a spot near the window.
This restaurant was uniquely decorated, with sandalwood incense emitting wisps of smoke, refreshing the senses. A bronze-toned lamp hung from the high ceiling. In the distance, on the old yellow-brown walls, there were some signatures.
Ye Xuan approached the wall, carefully examining the signatures.
"Stuart!"
What a familiar name.
Sadly enough…
Ye Xuan sighed helplessly.
Turns out, the previous Pope had also dined here.
Ye Xuan walked back from the wall to the window sill, sitting in front of a sandalwood table, with a bitter smile on his face.
"This restaurant is really quite nice."
Ye Xuan chuckled lightly, commenting.
