That day, in the afternoon.
Xia Yu rarely rested in the Zen House.
The Zen House was airy from all sides, with all windows and doors wide open. Beneath him was the tatami that released a faint scent of straw. The cool breeze blew gently from the courtyard's small pond and the treetops. He didn't turn on the electric fan and simply half-squinted his eyes, savoring the rare leisure of the afternoon.
Hua Mao lay at the doorway, with large amber eyes, just watching Xia Yu who was lying flat.
The wind whooshed down the corridor—no need to question the animal's nature to seek cool refuge. They always found the coolest spot around the house, yet never too far away from their master.
Doo-doo.
Doo.
On the tea table, the phone vibrated.
He could only answer the call amid the noisy cicada's chorus.
A woman's voice spoke from the other end,
"I've organized Yuchuan Ayaka's material and sent it to your email; take a good look."
