The fine rain of Hai Province silently drifted towards the villa's floor-to-ceiling windows, enveloping the entire building in a layer of misty water.
Inside the house, the maid held a fruit tray filled with seasonal fresh fruits and quietly walked to the door of Shi Yang's bedroom.
The intense voices of the conversation inside made her face slightly change, and she instinctively held her breath, her hand suspended in mid-air, standing outside the door not daring to knock.
A moment later, she took two steps back, quietly retreated downstairs on the red-brown steps of the wooden staircase.
Inside the room, the decor was warm and sweet yet did not lose the breath of refined art, but at this moment the atmosphere was heavy.
Shi Yang's face was leaning against a silk pillow, a white cashmere shawl casually draped over her shoulders.
The middle-aged couple standing opposite her exuded a sense of oppression that clashed with the room.
