Ansel held the USB drive with the copied data and shook his head. “It won’t delay anything; I was planning to go there now.”
“That’s great, it’s my honor,” the girl said happily as she tidied up her desk. “This is wonderful! I’ve been looking for a place like this but haven’t found one.”
Over time, Ansel had come to know that she was a girl with sentiments, which was why he was willing to take her there. They were colleagues, and it would be good for her to experience that atmosphere.
During this period, they sat at adjacent desks, and Susan always brought Ansel a cup of coffee whenever she made one for herself. They had become good friends.
The female teacher packed her bag and followed him out.
Ansel had driven over, and he opened the car door for her to sit in the passenger seat.
The school was in the city, a bit far from Mr. Johnson’s studio. Before heading there directly, Ansel stopped the car by the roadside without saying a word and got out. He went to a fruit store and bought some cut fruit, handing it through the car window to her.
“For me?” Susan Clark was surprised as she took it. “Thank you.”
“Yes, the journey is a bit long, about an hour,” Ansel said considerately.
Susan felt a little worried. When he got back in the car, she turned to him and asked, “Is it convenient? It’s quite far… Will it take too much of your time?”
Because she liked him a bit, she was always cautious, afraid of troubling him or making him dislike her.
“It’s convenient. As long as you have time, my father isn’t at the mountain today. I can show you his studio; there’s a lake, and the house is built halfway up the mountain. The environment is really nice.”
Logically, a girl following a guy into the mountains should be cautious, but Susan Clark wasn’t; she trusted him completely. This might be what we often refer to as a sense of security.
During the hour-long drive, they started with relative silence but gradually began talking about life, students, and art… Laughter occasionally filled the car.
Time passed quickly.
Mr. Johnson’s studio was very artistic and deeply attracted this girl; it was like a paradise. The air here was exceptionally good. From the moment Susan Clark entered through that iron gate, her heart was filled with anticipation; it was even more beautiful than she had imagined.
The place was filled with various colors of sunflowers and hydrangeas swaying in clusters with the wind, incredibly beautiful like a fairyland.
At the foot of the mountain was a natural lake, emerald green. The ends of the lake were flanked by two towering peaks that were almost impossible to climb due to their steepness; they were mostly barren rock with sparse vegetation.
The reflection of the mountains and white clouds in the sky on the lake surface looked like a natural painting.
It was Susan’s first time seeing such scenery, and she was deeply captivated.
Behind them stood the studio built with red bricks-three rows of irregular houses, some even two stories high. The wooden corridors outside gave an overall vintage feel.
Ansel introduced her to the history of this place and how difficult it had been back then; every brick and tile had been carried up by villagers since there were no roads then-and even now there weren’t any proper roads.
The journey over had been very bumpy; without an off-road vehicle, they wouldn’t have made it up here.
Susan Clark listened to this story and was deeply moved. What kind of sentiment must this be? Not for profit or running a guesthouse but only hosting literary friends.