The rainstorm poured down.
Duanmu Huai and Ruoya Mu sat in the chair by the window, watching the curtain of rain outside. Illuminated by the streetlights, the surroundings were pitch black, and the raindrops hit the glass with a disordered rock rhythm. Duanmu Huai sipped his coffee, while Ruoya Mu held her mango juice; neither of them spoke.
But surprisingly, this feeling wasn't bad.
Staring at the mango juice in her hand, Ruoya Mu remained silent. She wasn't someone who enjoyed talking, nor did she like interacting with strangers. However, next to Duanmu Huai, Ruoya Mu felt relaxed, because she sensed that Duanmu Huai was different from others; he didn't seem to care about her as much.
To be honest, for Ruoya Mu, this was rather liberating.
