The aroma of tea filled the office.
On a natural wood square table, two reddish lumps of charcoal burned in an earthen stove, with an exquisite teapot resting steadily on top.
Beside the stove were porcelain teacups, lids, and saucers imbued with the charm of a southern water town. To the left were two plates of pastries so masterfully crafted one couldn't bear to ruin them.
After saying thank you at the door, An Ning surveyed the arrangement and commented, "A treacherous banquet?"
"Haha... relax. These old bones of mine are no match for you."
Director Zhao invited An Ning to sit. She walked steadily to the seat opposite him and waited.
The GURGLE of boiling water and the gentle TRICKLE of tea being poured filled the space in the room.
The two of them sat face-to-face in silence.
It seemed to be a contest of patience, and An Ning was the one who came out on top.
"I was just thinking, if I didn't speak first, were you planning on not saying a word?"
"Yes."
