Chu Jingnan stood before the huge glass window with a glass of red wine in his hand. He was wearing a lead ash Armani suit—the thin material had a matt glow which made the color look obscurely elegant and the low key extravagance and simple cutting seemed to be rid of any complication, left with only classiness which needn't especially flaunt its value, yet silently radiated an extremely fine taste.
Chu Jingnan had always been an extremely outstanding man. Living for almost four years abroad had gotten rid of all his rough edges and floppiness, making his quality even more obscure and cultivated, just like the red wine in his hand—its tannin's bitterness had been through years of storage, its aroma had been through brewing, its texture had been stabilized, and its taste had been fermented by time, making it exquisite yet elegant.
