When the moon was bright and the stars sparse, a storm was brewing.
Not until the first light of dawn did the sky become clear, and the storm finally erupted.
In this world, storms are never in short supply; what's lacking is the storm that falls upon your head.
Upon waking, Jiang Muwan made a phone call to Fu Jing, whose response sounded both clear-headed and confused.
That morning, Lan Ying saw her mistress, wearing a light blue robe, appear on the staircase, one hand holding a phone, standing on the second-floor landing overlooking the first floor. There was a hint of coldness in her eyes and brows, and she seemed to be talking about something with the person on the other end.
Suddenly, her voice, not too loud nor too soft, rose from the railing on the second floor: "Lan Ying."
The latter responded, about to step forward, but the mistress's voice stopped her in her tracks.
"A cup of hot Americano," she said and then turned to enter the study.
