The man faced the empty study, unable to tell if he was enveloped in solitude or trying hard to recall something.
The conversation from the neighboring balcony ceased.
When the little one wanted bubble tea at night, Schreyer would drive to Chinatown without hesitation to buy it for her, her chooseriness limited to things from Chinatown.
Leh Ying put away her phone. It was still snowing in the United Kingdom in February when suddenly a voice emanated from next door.
"What are you up to in the middle of the night?"
A familiar voice asked with a laugh.
Leh Ying was startled and looked toward the light coming from the next room's study.
She leaned on the railing and peeked her head out, probably heard by their ancestors.
"Mrs. Xu, I forgot."
Her tone was fairly helpless.
She knew about the photo.
"I don't want to know; there's no need to dwell on it. You've already seen it; it's not like it can bite you," Leh Ying said, hanging her head as she returned to her room.
