Bai Wei suddenly took two large gulps and then thrust the cup into Fu Han's hands, her look indicating a desire to say something but hesitating to do so.
Fu Han looked at Bai Wei with a slanted eye, "If you have something to say, just say it. Hemming and hawing isn't your style."
She usually finished work late, and by this time it had already turned dark. The lights in the Fu family's courtyard had come on, still the little colored lights they had hung up for Christmas, twinkling, giving off the impression that what's outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was the night sky.
The gardener had already hurried to clean up the snow in the yard, which was a meticulously cared-for garden, planted with all sorts of flowers and herbs in an orderly fashion, and the paths for walking were made of bluestones, imbuing a dampish feel upon first glance.
