Shen You'an glared at him.
This man is sometimes quite reserved, and she hopes he will take his time to understand, otherwise she's afraid she won't be able to handle it.
The two checked into a local traditional courtyard inn with a blue and white arch at the entrance, mosaic tiles on the ground, mint, citrus, and bougainvillea planted along the walls, and a small fountain in the center with the sound of water trickling.
The owner led them upstairs. The walls of the room were a gentle sky blue, the wooden door had stained glass, the carpet was a red-brown Berber handmade rug, the bedding was soft, and there was a small tea table by the bed with a copper mint teapot.
Pushing open the window, outside were layers of blue and white little houses built on the mountain, white-framed windows, red-tiled roofs, and in the distance were the blue-gray Rif Mountains. There was smoke rising in the air, and occasionally Arabic chatter and cat meows came from the alleys.
