Feng Mo looked at her, perplexed, but maintained a smile. His light scarlet robe brushed past the black wooden table as he poured a cup of rage ant chrysanthemum tea for her. "I'm waiting for someone."
Meng Fuyao raised a doubtful glance at his words.
"Many years ago she said she would wait here for me. I traveled for too long, and when I came back, she was gone. Her former house had been torn down and rebuilt into this. The place has changed tremendously but certain things, like the lavender flowers in the garden, remained, which is why I can't bear to leave."
He smiled faintly, with a romantic charm that older men usually carried. The fine lines extending from the corner of his eyes were angled perfectly.
"What has that got to do with this?"
