Charles Mcintosh took a drag on his cigarette, was it bitter or sweet?
He patted his assistant's shoulder, "Experience it once, and you'll understand."
The assistant awkwardly scratched his head, a faint blush appearing on his fair, young face.
"Mr. Mcintosh, if there's nothing else, I think we can set sail. The wind and waves in the middle of the river are too strong, and the ship is rocking severely. Once we dock, we can also take Miss Yale to the ward," the doctor suggested.
Charles didn't immediately respond but glanced at the dark river water.
Both boats had already overturned, and the once turbulent river surface had now become calm, as if nothing had ever happened.
In a few hours, it would be dawn.
When the sun rises, the river will shimmer with the glow of the sunrise, sparkling like gold.
Now the river was dark and menacing, but by then, it would be beautiful and captivating.
The river would not remember how many lives it had devoured during the night.
