Joe followed Edith without scruple, looked at Edith's lithe and graceful posture, raised his hand and fanned his hand a few times, and thought in a depressing way: The fucking weather is the same every day. There was still a strong wind at this time yesterday afternoon. If there was a small tornado, and Edith happened to be wrapped in it, wouldn't the scenery in the short skirt make me speechless? !

What a coincidence! What a coincidence!

Joe thought did not fall, a tiny tornado suddenly blew, and the whirlwind rolled to Edith.

Edith is still walking leisurely, not knowing that there will be danger of being sneaked away...