Afternoon.
Xu Jingxi took her out to listen to a small zither piece, this time not a teahouse, but a three-story river cruise ship far from the city, highly secretive.
Without the domineering gesture of booking the whole venue, they sat in a corner, side by side with tourists from all over, scattered in groups of threes and fives, strangers to one another.
The noble son ordered a lion incense burner of Magnolia agarwood, comfortably leaning back in his seat, supporting his head to sleep, without the hustle and bustle of loud patrons around; a signboard at the door read: 'Rule number one for civility, no loud noises.'
She suspected he was too lonely, fond of anonymous cities where no one recognized him, taking a seat wherever he pleased.
Leh Ying ate grapes, listening to the ancient zither, and brought up the matter of the little dog, "It didn't make it."
Xu Jingxi watched coldly from the sidelines.
