Jane Sampson had grown up.
Although she wasn't as strong as he thought, she wasn't that fragile either, not to the extent of breaking at the slightest touch.
That's true.
Why be fragile?
She had him.
James Black paid the fare and took Jane's hand as they stepped out of the car, just as he had described—the night market on the ancient street had far fewer tourists than what Jane had discovered online.
But all the ancient buildings here were beautiful.
As the night lights began to glow, the light dimmed along the river, reflecting off the water surface in glittering waves, casting a dreamy light on the neon signs along the riverside.
There was a bridge over the river, and at its head stood a massive tree Jane couldn't name, adorned with many pieces of red cloth, while the bridge itself was lined with red lanterns.
