Wang Yun got into Han Jinyue's car, saying she wanted to experience what a luxury car felt like. She was straightforward by nature and did not like suppressing her own thoughts.
As for Zhao Cheng, he started up the secondhand minivan he had just bought for a few thousand yuan.
The vehicle was battered and worn, but it perfectly met his need to transport all kinds of materials while renovating his old family home in the suburbs. Besides that, its value for money could not have been higher.
He had not been working for long and did not have much savings. Nor did he intend to cheat with his supernatural powers. That would defeat the original purpose of fulfilling the wishes of this life.
Using supernatural powers was like using cheats in a cultivation game. Once anything could simply be altered into existence, the game lost both its fun and its meaning.
For this kind of game, the process was precisely where its importance and enjoyment lay.
And for karmic fate, what mattered was also the process. Without the process, karmic fate itself was empty.
Winter nights fell quickly. At a little past four, the sky was still bright, but by five, dusk had already appeared, with crimson clouds blooming along the horizon.
Zhao Cheng drove quickly, while a raspy song of poor sound quality drifted from the battered car speakers.
The scenery on either side rushed backward. The sun was setting, yet in Zhao Cheng's spiritual world, there was a simple kind of happiness.
This era was restless and impetuous. Happiness seemed to have become estranged from many people, but in truth, it was not so complicated or so far beyond reach.
A broken-down car, a little time of one's own, and a more-or-less decent pop song—if one could