"Eaten by a dog?"
Jane Sampson cradled her mobile phone while lying in the bed and chuckled softly.
But this feeling wasn’t too bad either.
In that particular city, having soone waiting for her to co ho, and having no one waiting—those were two different feelings for her.
Before, when no one cared, Jane Sampson felt that the city was no more than a place to land her feet.
Ho was rely a temporary shelter.
She never felt a sense of belonging to the city she grew up in, nor had strong emotions towards it.
Yet now, it seed to have changed.
The person who never used to enquire about her affairs had started to not want her to leave that city, and to look forward to her return.
That place called "ho," in her heart, was no longer just a place to land her feet—it suddenly beca a ho.
That ho had a person who would coldly lecture her, forbidding her from doing this and that; but after driving him crazy with frustration, he would still caringly take care of her.
He was a man of few words, yet even when angry enough to smoke, he rembered that she disliked the sll of smoke and would avoid her.
All these things—things Jane Sampson never saw in Jas Black before rebirth—were marks of his attentiveness and thoughtfulness.
Having co back through rebirth, Jane Sampson felt, it seed she should start to get to know Jas Black all over again.
Understood. I will co back after finishing my things over here. — Jas Black’s wife.
Jane Sampson sent back a cute, coquettish pink rabbit emoji, then set her mobile phone aside, placing the score she took from Jas Carter’s studio on the table.
Actually, since learning about the the of Jas Carter’s score, halfway there, Jane Sampson had already felt inspired to write lyrics but hadn’t gotten around to writing them down till now.
At this ti, in the still of the night, from the room’s patio window, outside was a paddy field; the special material of the glass kept the sounds of insects and birds outdoors but couldn’t keep out the gentle moonlight.
Jane Sampson, holding paper and pen, stood in front of the window, gently humming the tune while she revised her lyrics over and over.
When she finally felt satisfied, when she finally put down the pen in her hand and looked up outside, the moonlight had dimd significantly.
It was late night already, yet she was completely unaware.
Jane Sampson returned to sit on the sofa alone, softly humming to the score several tis until it flowed smoothly, then recorded it directly on her mobile phone and sent it to Jas Carter.
It was only after sending the recording that Jane Sampson noticed the notification sound indicating it was already 3:30 a.m.
She fretted, hoping she hadn’t woken Mr. Carter.
After putting down her mobile phone, Jane Sampson took her stuff and went to the bath room for a bath.
And in another room, two rooms away from Jane Sampson, the new WhatsAPP ssage notification sound finally made Jas Carter willing to withdraw a bit of his attention from his work on the table.
Slender and fair fingers swiped the mobile phone screen, he unlocked it and entered the WhatsAPP page.
Seeing the recording file sent by Jane Sampson, Jas Carter directly played it.
The volu of the recording wasn’t very loud, but in the silent night, it was clear enough.
The music’s intro was humd out by her without any instruntal accompanint—rely humming, but Jas Carter found it unexpectedly pleasant to hear.
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