"Can I smoke?"
Mo Shangjun asked the driver up ahead.
"Ah," the driver glanced at Mo Shangjun through the rearview mirror. Seeing that she didn't look like a troublemaker, but rather carried herself with a certain grace, he nodded. "Sure."
Mo Shangjun rolled down the car window and took out the unfinished pack of cigarettes.
With practiced ease, she lit a cigarette.
It was early autumn, and it had just rained. A cool breeze whipped through the open window, dispersing the smoke.
A faint scent of tobacco lingered at the tip of her nose.
She quickly finished the cigarette. Out of habit, she reached for the pack again, but after a glance, her eyes fell on the seatbelt, and she put it back down.
After a moment of thought, she fastened the seatbelt.
—Her mind was elsewhere.
Halfway into the journey, Mo Shangjun finally thought of Ya Tianxing.
And thought of her phone, which had been off since the night before.
