The soldier's eyes lit up at the end, perking up. "Seems like you're really coming back?"
Qin Mo remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the paper in his hands as though trying to clarify something.
The soldier wanted to say more, but Qin Mo had already opened the car door and was on the way out; a pure black umbrella over his head while the raindrops dripped downwards.
No one could see his expression under the umbrella or the deep pair of eyes beneath his dark hair.
The paper crumpled within his palms.
Until this moment, the unstable thumping of his heart had yet to calm down. Even his breathes were hurried.
When Madam Zhang caught sight of him, she hurried out with a jacket.
But before she could head out, Qin Mo was already back, the folded umbrella still dripping wet.
Both his shoulders and dark locks were damp.
