Does she mind what to eat? In fact, she can’t feel anything now, as if she has fallen into a strange loop where nothing seems to matter to her, except when Atlas Hallow cos close, she becos very sensitive.
All of her senses are gone; music is no longer lodious, colors are no longer dazzlingly attractive, even delicious food tastes like wax in her mouth. It seems all the lost feelings have concentrated on Atlas Hallow, like a huge invisible black hole, slowly sucking away her senses toward the external world, focusing all her feelings onto him.
She’s more sensitive to his every move than ever before, no matter how small. She doesn’t know why her feelings are so intense, perhaps because of her little child who has eyes just like his, but whereas the child’s eyes were as clear as black crystal, Atlas Hallow’s eyes are pitch black, revealing nothing, just an abyss.
As soon as she thinks of her little child, a sudden sense of helplessness mixed with needle-like pain rises in her chest.
She doesn’t know if this pain is due to the departure of her little child or because of Atlas Hallow’s deception; these mixed feelings push her into the abyss, keeping her imrsed in agony.
How can she achieve self-redemption? Perhaps leaving is the only way...
After the car left the city, it took about another half an hour to reach a countryside farmhouse.
There was a banyan tree in the yard spreading out like a big umbrella. It’s unclear whether it was because the al ti had passed or Jack Smith had given special instructions beforehand, but there was surprisingly no one at the farmhouse.
The farmhouse owner seed to be very familiar with Jack Smith. As soon as his car stopped outside the farmhouse, the owner eagerly ca forward: "Jack, co in quickly, I’ve already got everything ready."
The air here was distinctly colder than in the city. Jack Smith didn’t daringly put his own clothes on Charlotte Miller, but instead took out a new n’s large shawl from the car and handed it to her: "The wind here is quite strong, this is a new one sent by brand PR, you should wear it..."
Charlotte Miller took the dark gray n’s scarf with a black logo silently and wrapped it around herself.
"Uncle Diaz, this is my friend, Charlotte Miller." Jack Smith seed more at ease here, no longer cautious as before; this must be soone he trusts deeply.
He took off all his gear and removed his coat, still wearing those ripped jeans and a simple patterned David shirt, exuding youthful exuberance all over.
"Hello, Miss Miller." The middle-aged man rubbed his hands and smiled, leading them into the yard.
"Actually, the food here is really good, you can’t get it in the city." Jack Smith and Charlotte Miller sat in the yard. Perhaps he had made prior arrangents, so so dishes were already prepared, and as soon as they sat down, there was food to eat.
"This fish is from the mountain spring behind us, very rare with not even a hint of fishy sll. If it weren’t for Jack’s visit, I would really not be willing to part with it..." The farmhouse owner brought out a large basin of milky white fish soup, the air filled with a distinct aroma of food, seemingly with a hint of angelica inside, a few red goji berries floating on top, extraordinarily enticing.
Not far away was a large red brick oven, not much different in shape from those used in city roast duck shops, roast chickens gleaming yellow, crispy skin and tender at, served with a small dish of sesa salt that slled especially fragrant. In fact, Charlotte Miller hadn’t known what she was eating for a long ti now, eating had beco the least considerate matter, rely to sustain energy. But today felt special, perhaps because outside the city the air was so much better, with mountains and water, or perhaps because of the rustic smiles of the farmhouse couple, making her heart relax.
This couple didn’t say any polite words, just with smiles, bustling around and setting a whole table of dishes, the table also had a plastic basin filled with big green jujubes. Not as exquisite as those in the Hallow Family, nor could it compare to the elaborate skills of professional chefs, but it made her eat comfortably.
Jack Smith sneakily observed Charlotte Miller, her face showing little expression, just very seriously eating.
Does she have sothing on her mind?
Is there a problem between her and Atlas Hallow? This was Jack Smith’s first reaction, but he didn’t ask more, as his position was not suitable to inquire about such matters.
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