At the same time, in Lin City.
Cheng Miaohan wandered alone on the streets without purpose.
She had never felt so dejected and lost.
This was definitely her first time in her eighteen years of life.
Suddenly, a motorcycle drove past her on the street with a man and a woman on it.
Cheng Miaohan unconsciously looked up.
The girl was dressed in brand names, her figure first-rate, her face very pretty.
But the boy was dressed in tatters, appearing to have no class and even less of a future.
Such an unlikely pair, they seemed impossible to have any crossover in their lives.
Yet, Cheng Miaohan saw that the girl was hugging the boy tightly, her face filled with happiness.
For some reason, the image of that cold and aloof boy sprang into Cheng Miaohan's mind, and she was no longer filled with anger or disdain, but rather, taken over by a very strange emotion.
The boy was always either with one hand in his pocket or both, projecting a lonely and arrogant silhouette.