A lounge.
"Girl, would you like coffee, juice, or red wine?" Rong Huo asked her enthusiastically.
Well, for now, he might as well address her as girl; he believed his mother would forgive him.
Lan Jin leaned back on the sofa like a boss, not showing any restraint, "Juice."
Soon, a glass of juice was handed to her, and Lan Jin took a leisurely sip before looking at Rong Huo, "How do you want to cooperate with me?"
Rong Huo poured himself a glass of red wine and sat down elegantly on another sofa.
With his long legs crossed, he gently swirled the wine glass, his warm voice breaking the silence:
"First of all, I want to confirm, is this composition truly your original? Don't get me wrong, I'm not questioning you (nor do I dare to), I'm just curious how someone as young as you could write such a piece, especially one related to doomsday."
What mainly puzzled him was that in the future years, they had never heard about his mother composing her own piano music, right?
