She walked slowly, deliberately stepping on the diamond-shaped tiles on the ground, counting them one by one.

"One, two, three, four..."

She kept counting until she was confused and chuckled to herself, giving up on counting further.

The sky was pitch black, the night had already fallen. At this time of night, there were many people, and many vehicles on the road as well, coming and going.

At the entrance of the complex, Jasmine Yale flagged down a taxi.

"Ma’am, where are you headed?" the driver asked.

Jasmine Yale clutched her bag, hesitating. She still hadn’t decided where to go.

"Ma’am, where are you headed?" the driver, thinking she hadn’t heard, raised his voice and asked again.

"To the shopping mall in the city center, MC Plaza."

"Alright."

The car started moving, and Jasmine Yale closed the window.

It was warm inside the car, but a bit stuffy. Perhaps it was too stuffy, her breathing was somewhat uneasy.

Jasmine Yale didn’t have anything specific to buy; she just wanted to get out and walk around. Staying home for too long would drive her crazy.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, she held her head, closing her eyes drowsily.

The driver turned on the radio, and the voice of the female host was pleasant to hear.

The radio first broadcast some local Cakago news, then started playing an emotional interview, reminiscent of a domestic late-night show.

There was a thirty-something UT woman venting indignantly to the host: "I really can’t stand this marriage anymore. My husband never cares about me or the kids. He hasn’t been home for a month, and even when he is, we quarrel. He has no feelings for the children at all."

Jasmine Yale listened, smiling faintly.

Jasmine Yale didn’t expect that relationship issues transcend borders.

UT women weren’t as carefree and indifferent as she had imagined.

The driver, a local UT man, complained, "Women are just so narrow-minded. Can a man be the same as a woman? Which man talks about women and kids all the time? Such a man is so unpromising; a man should focus on his career."

Jasmine Yale smiled again.

In the radio, the UT woman’s grumbling continued, filling the entire car space.

It was about a half-hour ride to the city center, and Jasmine Yale made a call to Sylvan Cheney.

"Are you done with work? Have you eaten?"

"Still at the construction site, there’s quite a lot to do here, don’t worry."

"Oh, oh, where are you going to eat?"

"There’s a canteen here."

"A canteen? You’re so picky, can you eat that?"

"There’s nothing you can’t get used to; habits are slowly formed. I’m not that picky."

"Oh." Jasmine Yale suddenly didn’t know what to say, "Then I’ll go eat first."

"Alright."

Habits are slowly formed. Regardless of what the habit is, there’s nothing that time can’t change.

Jasmine Yale watched the bustling, brightly lit street outside in silence.

The car quickly reached the city center.

It was much livelier here. Jasmine Yale really liked the bustling atmosphere, completely different from home.

She found a Japanese ramen shop, ordered a bowl of tonkotsu ramen, sat by the window, eating while watching the street scene outside.

The waitress walked up to her, took out a small ceramic toy from her pocket, "This is a children’s gift, please keep it."

"Children?" Jasmine Yale looked around; there were no children beside her.

"Your baby is a child too." The waitress, a young Japanese girl in a blue kimono, smiled with crescent eyes, very pretty.