Zhuo Jingren hated the smell of cigarettes.
He hated inhaling the thick and bitter scent, likened to burnt wood that would permeate the air, and linger on his clothes like scented deodorant. It was nothing but poison. Zhuo Jingren did not like to smoke but tonight was an exception.
Zhuo Jingren watched as rings of smoke disappear in the cool breeze of the evening. It was eighteen minutes past seven and he still could not contain the twitching nerves in his stomach. He told his secretary that he would arrive thirty minutes late, thinking that it would only make Lily look forward to their meeting even more, against his secretary's better judgement. Secretary Go tried to reason with his president that a gentleman should never let a lady wait but his advice fell on deaf ears.
He might have fooled his secretary but he could never fool himself. He was not intentionally being childish or unreasonable. He was just really… really nervous about seeing her again.
