Ascending the slightly worn but spotlessly clean stairs, the clamor from outside seemed to be sealed off by the heavy wooden door.
In the second-floor reception room, the heating was turned up high, and the air was filled with the faint scent of sandalwood and aged tangerine peel pu'er tea.
Lin Daohang, dressed in a dark red Tang suit, was sitting before a tea table, brewing tea. Upon seeing Li Wei enter, this figure—a man who could make Chinatown tremble with a stomp of his foot—immediately put down his teapot and stood up.
"Mr. Li! Happy New Year!" In this different setting, the cloying hypocrisy and sycophancy that had so annoyed Li Wei last time were gone. "And this is—"
"Anya," Li Wei introduced simply. "My girlfriend."
He didn't mention her background.
"A pleasure, a pleasure! A talented man and a beautiful woman—truly a perfect match!" Lin Daohang's English was heavy with an accent, but his pleasantries were flawless.
