The feeling of deep anguish is just like this.
And yet, powerless to do anything.
Smoke swirls, gradually dispersed by the wind.
Charles Mcintosh took a few sharp drags, frowning slightly: "The smoke isn't strong enough."
The assistant paused, then nodded.
He usually wouldn't smoke anything too strong, as he couldn't handle it and it affected his work.
The bow of the ship was very cold, gusts of wind blowing with a howl.
However, at the bow, he wouldn't be drenched by rain. Charles Mcintosh just sat there, like a statue, smoking one cigarette after another.
His chiseled features were hidden in the darkness, an unfathomable desolation in his eyes.
Ever since handing the Cheney Family to Jesse Rowan, Sylvan Cheney had been planning the business and projects in Cakago with him.
