Mo Site knew just by looking at Wen Mian's demeanor that she didn't want to answer anymore.
He shrugged his shoulders, "Right, there's another matter..."
Mo Site stuffed the invitation into Wen Mian's hands, the black paper adorned with intricate cursive English script.
"The gathering will be at Arlia Hotel, at half-past eight in the evening."
He reminded her, "Don't forget."
This time Wen Mian spoke, "Okay, I know, I'll be there."
Mo Site and Wen Mian briefly discussed how to deal with the media before he left.
By twenty past eight in the evening, Wen Mian, in a light purple gown, clutching a silver clutch, made her appearance at the hotel entrance.
Her black hair was styled into wavy curls; her delicate features appeared even more refined under the hotel's spotlight, her skin looking fairer.
To complement the color of her dress, Wen Mian had opted for light makeup, with paler brows, which gave her a more elegant demeanor than usual.
