Xie Yundu came to the projector, but Wen Kefan wasn't in the living room.
He picked up the remote from the sofa and turned off the projection on the television wall, the image of the grinning woman making him feel waves of discomfort.
After a while, he rose from the sofa, took off his coat, and descended the spiral staircase to the basement level.
All the lights in the basement were on.
It was in the small reception room that Xie Yundu saw Wen Kefan, who was drunk as a skunk.
Wen Kefan sat on the carpet in front of the sofa, leaning against it, her head tilted back, her dense hair spread out like seaweed on the sofa, and with her hazy, dispersed gaze, there was a bizarre beauty about her.
Wen Kefan's right hand hung down, while her left still gripped an empty wineglass.
She stared straight at Xie Yundu, who had approached, and suddenly burst into laughter.
Her laughter was sharp and piercing, filled with an indescribable sarcasm.
