In the deep of night, the Capital was draped in a gentle rain.
Tang Li stepped out of the cabin and immediately noticed a black umbrella not far away.
There was neither a grand welcoming ceremony nor the romance of a rising sun, only a beacon shining at the military airport.
The bright yellow light almost lit up half of the airport.
Song Baiyan held the umbrella handle, waiting for her silently under the beacon.
Just like waiting for a fledgling to return to its nest.
Tang Li did not wait for Ji Ming to open his umbrella but instead ran straight toward him.
The man's expression became more clear as she approached—both doting and concerned.
The art of throwing oneself into one's arms was a trick she had long mastered.
As she plunged into Song Baiyan's embrace, she was enveloped under the umbrella, her hands clutching his shirt, when she heard his familiar, steady voice: "Rushing in recklessly like this, aren't you afraid of tripping?"
