After the waitress left, silence reigned in the room. Outside the window beside the table, Beijing was coming alive. Glittering lights reflecting off of each other, showing a beautiful side of modernity.
Song Qingchun held her chin with one hand as she turned to appreciate the scenery. As she turned back around, she saw Su Zhinian bent over the table, rummaging through something down there.
Song Qingchun leaned sideways to look down the table, but her view was blocked by the wooden panelling of the table. Therefore, she could only ask, "What's wrong?"
Su Zhinian didn't reply as he continued rummaging under the table. After a while, he straightened himself and pushed a delicate box toward Song Qingchun. She looked at him with surprise. "This is for me?"
