In everyone else’s eyes, he is more or less...
Camden River thought chaotically, yet he couldn’t imagine what kind of person he appeared to others.
He never cared about these matters before; being true to himself was enough.
For the first ti, his head throbbed violently.
Not wanting to linger, he also wanted to get so fresh air.
That’s how Camden River felt, and he acted on it, moving instinctively to leave.
Professor Lee, unlike so of the more lenient young teachers, directly gripped his shoulder with a rough, large hand.
Camden River was caught off guard.
Professor Lee sighed regretfully, saying, "Are you aware of how Old Master River views this school behavior of yours?"
Camden River halted, shocked as if struck by a heavy blow.
"Sit down and attend the class," Professor Lee said sternly, throwing down these words before turning back to the podium.
Camden River’s lips trembled slightly; he glanced toward the classroom door, only to et the sympathetic glances of the two girls nearby. He resud his steps, expressionless, and returned to his seat.
Does Professor Lee know his father?
This thought repeatedly churned in his mind, leaving him unsettled.
Indeed, the literary circle is only so large.
Professor Lee, a journalism professor at Cloud Capital University, is a respected elder in the national News Realm, often invited to conduct expert interviews, so perhaps he does know his father.
He had never considered it.
Being with Windsor Myres was due to a promise.
Windsor Myres threatened to jump off a building, and overco with a headache, he said he would stay with her if she didn’t die.
Subconsciously, he believed she would never jump.
Every person only has one life; their body and skin are gifts from their parents, how could they not be cherished?
Windsor Myres’s response was beyond his expectations; at that mont, he was both fearful and shocked, without any opportunity to think about his parents.
How should he confront this?
How should he and Windsor Myres confront this?
She dared to love and hate freely, indulging boldly, never thinking of him?
She didn’t care, but he did.
Even if he was briefly absorbed in the romance and cared less, overall, he still cared deeply.
Now like this—
He not only felt troubled but also ashad.
He used to think Windsor Myres would inevitably beco a permanent mark of cinnabar in his heart, the dizziness and heat she brought were experiences he never had, capable of igniting every part of him.
But now he instinctively looks toward that heap of ashes and remnants.
Windsor Myres, like a flaming firework, is inherently fueled by wood, coal, sulfur, and scraps of paper, and after illuminating the sky with joy and romance, leaves behind nothing but ashes scattered everywhere.
During the bloom, one is utterly absorbed; after the bloom, even if cleaned, traces remain on the ground for days.
Spots marred by black, unsightly and disgraceful.
The bloom lasts re seconds, but the cleanup takes much longer.
This comparison is so reminiscent of his love affair!
Joy accompanied by troubles...
The passion fleeting, remaining in the heart indelibly—for these indelible seconds of joy, he has to invest a lot more ti tackling the aftermath and remnants that follow it.
What’s more troubleso—
Everyone witnesses these fleeting monts of bloom; his family might have to help him clean up and deal with the aftermath scattered on the ground.
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