The Language Cultivation Chapter 120

Blake Lin couldn't explain clearly what he felt, but he knew that some things had exceeded all his expectations.

At this moment, he just thought that the man didn't smoke.

At least he never smoked in front of me.

The little firelight spread in the darkness, like a rose on a black canvas. When it approached, the faint light illuminated the face.

Blake Lin looked at the man with his head down, watching him slowly put the slender pipe into his mouth, taking a light puff and then putting it down, like taking a sip of wine. The cigarette was still burning, and he just stood there, a very lonely silhouette, as if he had lost something, but the long hair hanging down from his shoulders neutralized his overly straight and sharp temperament. The outline of the whole picture was like a black-and-white movie from the 1960s, with a lazy, melancholy and crazy background sound. This underground space seemed like a dimension separated from the real world.