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... the massive acacia trees that framed the old stone courtyard. Warm, golden light bathed everything—the weathered bricks, the rows of wooden benches, the simple white banners fluttering softly in the breeze.

It smelled of fresh earth, lake wind, and jasmine petals scattered along the aisle Angel had insisted must be made of polished wood planks—not sand.

Matthew stood at the far end, adjusting the cuff of his light gray suit jacket, heart pounding somewhere near his throat.

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Free to control everything in the low-dimensional game, Lu Zhiyu felt like a gamemaster, and even God.

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In the last century, Feng Ai, the boss of the last century, was so sad after losing his love that he actually traveled to the world of female venerables in his sleep.

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Gazing at the Starbucks café at the airports had become a ritual for her. A desperate attempt as she hoped against hope to see him again, probably get one more chance to kiss him again.

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The cup of coffee that he had in his hand spilled all over just like the first time when she had met him.

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