The leaves of the camphor trees rustle softly.
On that bench beneath the tree sits only one person, surrounded by silence, with just the sound of cicadas.
An indescribable emotion suddenly arises in her heart.
She suddenly feels that the man under the tree is lonely and solitary.
As soon as this thought emerges, Scarlett Yates immediately despises her own arrogance.
How could she think someone like Matthew Saxon would be lonely and solitary? Has she lost her mind?
A wealthy young master who gets what he wants and changes women like clothes, how could he possibly be lonely?
She must have had something wrong in her head just now to have had such a ridiculous thought.
She chuckles self-deprecatingly, shakes her head, throws those chaotic thoughts out of her mind, turns around, and leaves with large strides without looking back.
--
Scarlett Yates is terrible with directions.
