The starry sky above was dazzling.
In a foreign land.
Emma looked at the man in front of her, her heart increasingly confirming the thought she had when she saw him today was correct; this man was becoming more and more enchanting.
He was here to steal her heart.
As the man's face drew closer, the warm breath was tantalizingly close. Emma's heartbeat gradually increased until she felt her heart pounding so violently it seemed about to leap from her chest.
Jason didn't wait for her response; his fingers gently touched Emma's lips.
Her lips were exceptionally soft, a little moist from the beer she had just drunk. His finger lightly wiped across them, and his voice was as low as a whisper: "Xingxing, I gave you a year to think, not because I gave up on you, but because I wanted to give you time and freedom to figure out what's between us."
After regaining her senses, Emma was about to speak, but Jason said softly, "Think it over, I'll give you time."
It seemed he had said everything that needed to be said, and everything that shouldn't have been said.
Emma decided to keep quiet.
When Emma bent down to grab another bottle of beer and was about to open it, a hand reached over and took the can from her.
She turned her head to see him, his index finger hooked on the tab, with a light click.
A soft pop followed, the sound of the beer fizzing in the air.
Jason lifted the can to his lips and began to drink.
After taking a sip, he turned to Emma and said in a low voice, "Young ladies shouldn't drink alcohol."
Emma muttered softly, "I'm not a young lady anymore; I'm twenty-five."
Indeed, in the blink of an eye, she had turned twenty-five.
Hearing this, the man let out a soft snort, and Emma looked at him in surprise as he said nonchalantly, "So are you implying that I'm an old man now?"
Jason was seven years older than Emma.
After hearing this, Emma really examined his face for a long time. There were no lights on the rooftop, and Jerusalem at night was not as brightly lit as Shanghai.
The only light was the silver moon above.
The cold moonlight fell on his face, casting a faint silver glow over his excessively handsome features, his dark eyes deep as if with whirlpools spinning inside, captivating her very soul.
"You are still handsome," Emma said softly.
The initial astonishment she felt when she first met him seemed to return tonight.
Jason glanced at his wristwatch, noting it was nearing midnight. He smiled and asked, "Are you sleepy?"
Emma blinked her eyes, "Not yet."
"Then I'll stay with you a little longer," he said gently.
Emma was taken aback, then looked at him and asked, "Are you leaving?"
He had come in such a hurry, wearing the stars and the moon, was he about to leave?
Jason's face showed a hint of helplessness, "I'm here for a meeting in the UK. Hengya has an investment project that requires my personal attention."
Emma knew he was busy; after all, Hengya was such a large group with over thirty thousand employees worldwide.
Even in a place like Israel, she had seen advertisements for Hengya's intelligent machine series on the streets.
Even when chatting occasionally with international journalists, once an American journalist talked to her about Hengya. Of course, the other party didn't know her identity, just mentioning it by chance.
He spoke with a mix of respect and a bit of hostility, acknowledging that Hengya Group, as a private enterprise, was excessively powerful, seizing the market with an extraordinarily strong will to fight.
But he also wondered if Hengya Group had issues with human rights, after all, sending employees to such a dangerous Middle East, where other communication companies chose to retreat, Hengya people still moved forward.
Emma had countered on the spot.
Because the leader of Hengya she saw was someone who worked harder than anyone else. Jason's background was higher than ordinary people, but he was not a dandy; instead, he worked harder than anyone else.
When she was with him, she saw him with her own eyes, hardly having any rest time.
She asked softly, "Are you leaving now? Then I'm sleepy."
Emma was afraid his schedule was too tight, and he would have to fly from Tel Aviv, where the international airport was larger. Then she made a yawning gesture, seemingly indicating she was quite sleepy.
Jason looked at her and suddenly laughed, reaching out to rub her head, "Alright, I'll watch you fall asleep before I leave." Emma was slightly stunned, not quite understanding what he meant by that.
It wasn't until she changed into her pajamas and lay on the bed that Jason, sitting by the bedside, quietly gazed at her. Emma blinked her eyes, her long eyelashes quivering slightly, carrying a pitiful charm. She asked, "You really want to watch me sleep?" "Do you want to sleep with me?" Jason calmly countered. Emma was taken aback; she didn't, she hadn't thought about it.
Jason looked around her room and said in a low voice, "Why is it so small here?" This was the place where Emma lived alone. Other colleagues from the newspaper office shared apartments, but she preferred not to live with male colleagues, feeling it was a bit inconvenient.
Emma replied, "It's not small, and the rent is not cheap." Jason's lips curled slightly, "It would be a bit small for two people to live in." Emma's eyes widened for a moment, her expression unchanged, but her eyes betrayed a hint of shyness and helplessness. Soon, a touch of red tinged her ears.
Her skin was so fair that any change was easily noticeable, her ears automatically revealing her emotions. Even though she was trying to act calm, her ears had already turned red.
At that moment, before she could move, Jason lay down first, lying on the edge of the bed while Emma was under the thin blanket. They were so close, their cheeks almost touching. Emma could feel his breath very close to her own.
All she had to do was lift her head slightly, and she could kiss him. As Emma was torn between whether or not to kiss him, she suddenly felt a hand on her blanket. Jason chuckled softly, "I'll lull you to sleep."
I'll lull you to sleep. Emma was stunned until Jason's palm gently patted her left shoulder as she lay on her side, pat after pat. Really lulling her to sleep.
Jason looked down and saw that her eyes were still open and couldn't help but smile, "Not sleepy yet?" Emma immediately closed her eyes. But with her eyes closed, she felt the surroundings too quiet. Just as she was about to open her eyes, she suddenly felt a soft touch on her lips.
The Jason who leaned over was not aggressive from the start. Instead, he kissed her lips cautiously, with restraint and restraint, as if afraid of scaring her. But the next second, Emma moved slightly, her tongue tip cautiously reaching out, tracing along the tightly pressed line of their lips, the soft tongue a bit awkward.
This kiss had been too long since the last one. So long that she had forgotten that just kissing him could make her heart race. It was as if sparks had ignited between them, perhaps this flame had been buried in the bottom of their hearts from the beginning, but as the distance between them gradually shortened over time, it slowly ignited.
When the kiss was about to deepen, Jason suddenly pulled back a little, creating a small distance between them. "Xingxing, it's too late," Jason said in a low voice. Emma was stunned, looking up at him: "You don't want to?" Her soft, nearly whispered words made Jason's suppressed desire flare up.
Didn't he want to hold her? Or didn't he want to kiss her. How could he not want to, if he didn't want her, he wouldn't have come to find her as soon as the year was up, even though the project in the UK was about to start negotiations, with billions of dollars in projects waiting for him.
But he really cherished this girl in his arms. Jason closed his eyes almost masochistically, his palm on her shoulder, patting again with a small amplitude, as if to completely suppress the fire in his heart.
After a while, Jason opened his eyes and looked at her, his voice hoarse: "This time, let's not rush, okay." This time they didn't need to rush because they had a lifetime to get to know each other again.
Emma opened her eyes and instinctively glanced to the side, confirming that the person beside her had already left. Last night, with him lying next to her, Emma had wondered how she would sleep. But unexpectedly, this turned out to be the most peaceful sleep she'd had since arriving in Israel.
In her dreams, there were no gunshots, no emaciated faces, and no desperate gazes.
After getting up, Emma found a note on the dining table, left by Jason when he left. "Xingxing, be happy every day."
His handwriting was truly beautiful. He had once told her about his childhood, being forced by his grandfather to practice calligraphy, which he didn't enjoy back then. He had to stand in the study day after day while others played.
Now she understood that his grandfather was tempering his character, making him patient and steady.
Looking at the message, though brief, Emma couldn't help but smile, especially at the happy face he drew at the end. If she didn't recognize his handwriting, Emma would never have guessed it was his drawing.
After pondering, she took out her phone and took a picture of the note, but still feeling it wasn't enough, she also used her camera, placing the note back in its original position. The dining table was by the window, and the morning sunlight streamed in, casting a glow on the note.
Under the light golden sunlight, the words seemed coated with a glaze, imprinted in her heart.
In the morning, she went to the newspaper office. There were no urgent tasks today, so they only needed to handle manuscripts at the office. However, in the afternoon, team leader Qiao Muheng returned from Jordan.
This time, the country decided to provide humanitarian aid to the refugee camps in Jordan, and Qiao Muheng, as an influential Chinese journalist in the Middle East, followed to do a special report.
He had been busy with this all week.
After returning today, he held a meeting on the spot: "The foreign correspondent in Lebanon has to return to the country for a month due to family matters. They don't have many people there, and we need to urgently reassign someone from our side."
Emma didn't hesitate: "I'll go."
Qiao Muheng looked at her and thought for a moment, then said, "You're not suitable."
Although the Middle East is not safe, Israel is also not. But Israel is a military powerhouse, and there are no terrorist attacks in Jerusalem.
However, the surrounding countries, whether it's Syria or Lebanon, are in chaos, with domestic rebels fighting against government forces.
Terrorist attacks occur frequently.
The newspaper office doesn't dare to send a large number of people to these countries, and there are even fewer female journalists.
Emma immediately retorted, "Besides me, who else is suitable?"
Qiao Muheng was stunned by her question.
In the end, Emma still managed to get the opportunity to go. Lebanon is a neighboring country of Israel and naturally also a country with tense relations with Israel.
After all, Israel was established on Arab land, and the outbreak of several Middle East wars completely pushed them to the opposite side.
Beirut is the capital of Lebanon.
Qiao Muheng said that a colleague would pick her up, but when Emma saw the person who came to pick her up, she still looked surprised.
At this time, Lin Qinglang, wearing a blue shirt and trousers, looked at Emma's shocked face and laughed out loud, then happily said, "I knew it would surprise you."
Emma looked at him in surprise: "How are you here?"
Lin Qinglang proudly handed her his credentials from his pocket: "See, I'm also a reporter for Xinhua News Agency now."
"Now we're in the same newspaper again."
However, Lin Qinglang looked her up and down, shaking his head and saying, "Teacher, you're really not generous. I came to the Middle East and was the first to tell you, but you didn't tell me you were here for a year."
When he heard that the colleague coming this time was named Emma, Lin Qinglang was really surprised.
He thought this name is not an ordinary name, it's quite special and sounds good, it can't be just a coincidence.
But he felt something was wrong.
So he called back to China and asked a friend in Shanghai, after all, the other party is also a rich circle, he should know a little bit about the Shen family.
When the friend said with surprise, "Don't you know about this? It is said that the woman's grandmother passed away, the wedding was canceled. And recently, there have been quite a few rumors about their divorce."
Previously, there were frequent rumors from marketing numbers.
Hengya Group was swift to take legal action, suing the rumor-mongers and shutting down several accounts. After that, no one dared to spread the gossip anymore.
Lin Qinglang was now certain that this Emma was the Emma he knew.
"I've already arranged your accommodation. Since you're only staying for a month, it's best to stay in a hotel. Our company is quite generous with us poor souls who work abroad," Lin Qinglang said.
He drove an old, rickety car that seemed to have every part clanking and rattling as they moved.
Previously, when Lin Qinglang had driven others in this car, they were always shocked and fearful, indirectly asking if the car had ever been in an accident.
Emma, however, remained calm and even had the leisure to admire the streets of Beirut.
This girl was as cool as ever.
"How about I take you to a Chinese restaurant later to celebrate your arrival?" Lin Qinglang suggested.
Emma turned to look at him, noticing his ever-present sunny smile, but he was noticeably darker and thinner than before, appearing much more composed.
"It really toughens you up here," he remarked.
Seeing her looking at him, he smiled triumphantly, "Do you think I've changed a lot?"
Emma was silent.
Lin Qinglang continued, "I went back home once, and my dad didn't even recognize me. He said I've changed so much I don't look like his son."
Although Lin Qinglang thought his father was exaggerating, he was secretly pleased.
After his mother passed away, he harbored a deep resentment towards his father. But traveling abroad really put life and death into perspective for him, seeing so many people struggling to survive, sometimes losing their lives on a whim.
It was a profound realization.
So when he returned home, the resentment he felt towards his father had faded significantly. They were both alive and could still see each other – wasn't that better than anything?
Hearing his words, Emma finally smiled and said, "Congratulations."
"I've been asking around about your dad, but you know, these foreigners are all face-blind and can't tell us apart," Lin Qinglang sighed in frustration.
Although familiar with each other, Emma and Lin Qinglang worked well together.
Moreover, she had started learning photography, sometimes charging forward with a camera when there was no photojournalist available.
Nothing much happened during the month, and it wasn't until Emma was about to return to Israel that she realized she hadn't taken a proper stroll around Beirut. So, before leaving, she decided to explore, especially since there was a festival happening, making the market particularly lively.
Lin Qinglang, aware of her plan, immediately said, "Let's go together."
"It's okay, you need to sort your photos. I can go by myself," Emma smiled, but took his car.
However, Lin Qinglang, still worried, insisted on following her.
The shopping here wasn't much to write home about, as it couldn't compare to the big cities back home; even the capital city felt like a small county town in China.
But it had the charm of a foreign land.
Especially in the second-hand market, Emma wandered around, looking at various items.
"Do you think this Matryoshka doll is worth buying?" Emma was about to ask Lin Qinglang when she noticed a local little boy staring at the item in her hand with eager eyes.
The boy was only four or five years old, but his big eyes were incredibly charming.
Middle Eastern features sometimes resembled dolls, especially in young children, with their pure and flawless black eyes.
"Do you like it?" Emma asked, unsure if he could understand English, pointing at the doll.
To her surprise, the boy understood her gesture and nodded.
Emma handed him the doll, smiling, "It's a gift for you."
At that moment, the boy's parents, who were browsing second-hand items at a nearby stall, noticed what was happening and rushed over to pull their child away. However, the boy had already taken the Matryoshka doll from Emma's hand.
His father scolded him sternly in their local language, which Emma didn't understand, but she could guess the meaning.
He was likely scolding him for taking things from strangers.
But the boy, only four or five years old and without many toys, was reluctant to give back the toy he had received. Emma had to communicate that it was her gift to him, using gestures to convey her message.
Fortunately, when Lin Qinglang returned, he eased the awkward situation of complete communication breakdown.
He spoke a few phrases of the local language, thus conveying Emma's intentions to the family.
In the end, the little boy's family bowed deeply to Emma, expressing their gratitude.
After this small episode, Emma continued to stroll forward, occasionally encountering things she wanted to photograph, but she would always ask for the subjects' consent.
The place was bustling yet peaceful; even though life wasn't affluent, smiles adorned everyone's faces.
Until screams in the distance shattered the tranquility.
Emma looked over and saw what seemed to be a commotion at the end of the street, with the disturbance growing larger as people from that end ran frantically towards her.
Emma immediately sensed that a significant event was unfolding.
People were running wildly, and the crowd surged towards her direction. Emma carefully held her camera, trying to avoid being knocked down by the rushing crowd.
At this point, she and Lin Qinglang had been completely separated.
When she reached the front, she only caught the last scene: a local man charged at the second attacker as he got out of the vehicle.
A massive explosion followed.
Emma instinctively threw herself backward and closed her eyes. Lying on the ground, the terrifying image from the second before was already etched in her mind.
It was a scene of hell on earth.
When she opened her eyes, chaos surrounded her; there had been two explosions. The first occurred when the attacker plunged into the crowd and detonated the bomb.
For the second, the attacker attempted to repeat the tactic, but a man rushed towards him, successfully tackling him. They were both blown to pieces together.
Emma gazed blankly around her; everyone was wailing, and the ground was covered in blood...
Police and ambulances arrived swiftly, as did the UN peacekeeping forces, but the scene was so gruesome that even those accustomed to death and suffering could not help but feel nauseous.
Tears welled up in Emma's eyes, but she knew she couldn't cry at this moment.
She had something more important to do.
She immediately connected to the satellite signal; she was at the scene of a terrorist attack, facing such a brutal scene for the first time, and she needed to convey what she saw and heard to the world.
Let everyone know what was happening here, at this moment, at this second.
Perhaps due to a journalist's keenness and vigilance, she always carried her equipment with her when she went out, something Lin Qinglang had teased her about before.
But now, she was the first reporter on the scene.
After swiftly sending the urgent news back to her country, she packed up her things. As she picked up her camera, she suddenly noticed several dolls scattered on the ground not far away.
It was a set of Matryoshka dolls.
When Emma looked over, she saw a little boy lying on the ground, his body and face covered in blood, looking barely alive.
Soon, a man in military uniform approached him, gently moving the gun he was holding to his back. As the soldier reached out to hold the boy, the boy's bloodied hand lifted.
As the soldier's hand gently enveloped the boy's small hand, Emma raised her camera and pressed the shutter.
At that moment, tears blurred her vision.
She remembered the man who had charged forward to die with the terrorist; just twenty minutes ago, he had shyly and awkwardly apologized to her.
But when he looked down at the little boy's contented smile holding the Matryoshka doll, his face radiated a happy, paternal joy.
His child had been injured in the first explosion.
If the second attacker had rushed into the crowd again, the child would definitely not have survived.
So he charged in, sacrificing himself to give his child a fighting chance.
At this moment, he was not trying to be a hero.
He was just a father, an ordinary father who loved his child.
Emma eventually followed to the hospital as well, searching for Lin Qinglang but unable to find him. Moreover, she was concerned about the condition of the child. However, when she arrived at the hospital, she saw that the floor was littered with people.
There were too many injured, not enough beds to accommodate them all.
Emma searched one by one until a relieved voice called out from behind: "Teacher."
She turned around to see Lin Qinglang, covered in blood, standing not far away. She immediately ran over: "Are you hurt?"
"No, I brought an injured person to the hospital," Lin Qinglang shook his head. Although relieved, his expression was still heavy. Such a scene of hell on earth weighed on anyone's heart.
Lin Qinglang, unaware of what she had witnessed, asked: "I'm planning to go back to the explosion site to take a look. Do you want to come with me?"
"No," Emma whispered.
Lin Qinglang understood her feelings; after all, the scene was too tragic.
So he said: "Then rest here, and I'll come back to pick you up after I'm done."
Emma nodded, not going anywhere, just sitting on the steps at the hospital entrance. She didn't block anyone's way, just occupying a small space. Despite being nearly 5'7", she almost curled up into a ball.
Her hands rested on her knees, her head buried.
All the images flashed through her mind, one after another, like a slideshow that could never stop.
Until she felt a hand on her head, gently stroking her hair.
Emma thought it was an illusion.
She was too tired to even want to lift her head.
But the gentle palm never left, as if to completely soothe her fear, sadness, pain, and uncontrollable trembling.
Finally, she raised her head.
When she saw the man in a white shirt in front of her, he was so clean.
Emma dared not blink, thinking this was her dream, her fantasy, her deepest desire.
She longed for him to redeem her.
But the person in front of her quietly looked at her, his eyes soft and full of compassion, until his forehead gently touched hers and nudged.
"Xingxing, I'm here to take you home."