It was already evening when I finally got rid of the pestering reporter and got home.
The setting sun hangs slantingly on the horizon, exuding an orange-yellow residual warmth. The weather in March was still a bit chilly. After getting out of the car, Quentin Yu turned up his collar and looked back to see Hugo Huo rubbing his nose and reaching out to tighten his scarf.
Before his hand could be put down, it was caught by Hugo Huo in mid-air. The two of them intertwined their fingers and exchanged the warmth of their palms.
"Why are you giggling? Hurry up and leave," Quentin Yu urged him in a low voice, "Go home, have a meal and go to bed quickly, otherwise you will feel uncomfortable again tonight."
Hugo Huo nodded with a smile and followed his footsteps.
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