Entering the hotel this time felt familiar, and the dinner arranged by the hotel was already cleared away.
Leh Ying had no appetite.
After a bath, she draped herself in a ladies' bathrobe and sat quietly at the desk, immersed in work.
The afternoon's design, as per the client's request, was halfway done, but the black and white colors were too heavy; the spotlight's tone was dark—indeed, it gave an almost Underworld-like impression.
At the time, everyone at the gallery was at a loss for words; their understanding of the artist's inspiration was truly inadequate.
Everyone was reprimanded, especially Leh Ying.
Sister Zhang's exact words were, "We are the gallery, and if Mingrui insists on doing this, we'll end up with no sales and all be left to eat the Northwest wind."
The plan required Leh Ying to stay up late to revise.
The room was silent.
Her throat was uncomfortable, and she couldn't help but cough once.
