Paris indeed had rain that evening, a pitter-patter that filled the air with the sound of rainfall.
Jiang Yun's residence was opposite, but under the watchful eye of Wu Tong who personally escorted him out, he carried the umbrella she had given him and walked downstairs. This was a regular apartment without an elevator, and he quickly exited from the fourth floor.
Stepping under the umbrella into the curtain of rain, Jiang Yun's tall silhouette cleaved a clear line of demarcation in the misty night, as though he shouldn't just return disappointed like this.
There was a hint of spitefulness in venturing out alone, but at this moment, Jiang Yun's mind was a chaotic mess, incapable of contemplating how to reappear before Wu Tong—he had no justified reason or entitlement.
The sound of the rain grew louder, and Jiang Yun quickened his pace. When he looked up, he saw several tall and muscular men of different skin tones approaching.
