Before dawn, the first rays of sunlight pierced through the forest; a Rolls-Royce was parked at the edge of the woods, bathed in golden sunlight. Its black body shimmered with a cold metallic luster, a tall figure leaned against the car, having not slept all night, his handsome face tinged with a hint of fatigue. His deep-set eyes were full of tiny red veins, his gaze fixed in the direction of the main gate. Weary but not disheartened or defeated, he stood upright, exuding an extraordinary presence. All night, she had not come out to see him. This woman—had her heart really turned to stone? Had she truly lost her memory, or was she using it as an excuse to avoid him? If it really was amnesia, why did she remember everyone else but forgot him? What exactly was she thinking? He found he understood her less and less.
An inexplicable irritation built up steadily within him...
