Nan Qing picked up a pen and beside the portrait wrote a few vigorous characters: "Seasonal & Limited Edition!"
...
That night, in the upscale restaurant, there were only a few sparsely arranged tables, each secluded by screens. To those in the know, these screens alone were evidently worth a small fortune.
Indeed, according to the size of the restaurant, there could have been more seats added; after all, the few available places were all filled.
At the back of the restaurant was a slightly raised stage, furnished with a piano, a violin, a cello, a guitar, and even a drum set; although often merely for show, at this moment, there was slow music flowing out, someone was playing the piano.
From Fu Han's position, she could see the side profile of a person: a high nose bridge paired with an almost ink-wash painting-like face, faint, as if he had just stepped out of the misty Jiangnan.
