Early June.
It was Mrs. Chen's birthday, coincidentally a weekend.
Early in the morning, Uncle Ming had someone deliver the latest seasonal collections from various brands to Deep Water Bay for Liang Weining to choose from.
In fact, her mind wasn't really on the clothes.
Having stayed up late the night before, she felt utterly drained. With bleary eyes, she laid in Mr. Chen's arms, languidly complaining, "We're going to Taiping Mountain later, how am I supposed to face anyone?"
A soft chuckle.
The man sat back against the headboard, his hand stroking the girl's hair.
He slowly perused a document, quietly suggesting, "Wear a cheongsam, it can cover the neckline."
"No," the person in his arms refused.
"Then just relax, don't mind the elders' views."
"..."
Liang Weining was frustrated and mumbled resentfully, "It's not you who's feeling shy."
At that, the rustling of paper ceased.
