Song Qingchun was alone in the room, so she started to do something she had not done since she arrived that morning: study his office.
Su Zhinian's taste was like his personality, simple but full of charisma. His office's decoration had a minimalistic flair to it, but everything he placed in the room was delicate and exquisite.
His office was huge, and there was a mini tree that reached up toward the ceiling before the floor-length window. A swing chair was hanging from the branch, and Song Qingchun believed it was only for decoration purposes because it looked very much unused.
Song Qingchun felt the scene looked very familiar. She stepped forward to touch the swing, and with her head tilted, she tried to remember where she had seen this scene before. She even sat in the swing chair, hoping it would jog her memory, but she came up with nothing.
