The grass on the prairie, dies and blooms in a cycle, year after year.
Zhang Qingrui thought of this poem miraculously. She was now sitting in a Jeep Wrangler, traversing through the prairie.
There was a large temperature difference between day and night. Zhang Qingrui unconsciously wrapped her clothing around her more tightly.
The heavy look could be seen from the professor’s eyes. His words also became less since they entered the prairie. She didn’t know how to describe it, merely sensing a slight hint determination from the professor.
The Jeep Wrangler drove for approximately 3 hours before eventually stopping in front of a soil pit. The professor locked the car and hung the key on his neck.
Zhang Qingrui smiled bitterly due to his caution.
Regardless of her waning intention to flee, only the pistol the professor carried about with him forbid her to step back.
