Lou Duan leaned deep into the sofa, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the slightly fuzzy velvet on the armrest.
Feng Mu and Hong Ya sat side by side opposite him, three cups of clear tea steaming on the coffee table.
This scene was just like yesterday, just like that day.
The tea was brewed by Lou Duan himself, a few pieces of tea leaves spread out at the bottom of the blue porcelain cups; beside the teacups, the bag of breakfast was still steaming, with grease soaking into the paper bag, leaving faint marks.
Feng Mu had deliberately bought it from a shop downstairs on his way over, the hot buns mixed with the sweet aroma of soy milk.
Never visiting empty-handed was Feng Mu's principle, and serving tea to guests was Lou Duan's courtesy. The two of them looked at each other through the tea mist, both polite people.
After a while, Lou Duan finally couldn't help but ask:
"What does Li Hanyu mean by asking you to deliver a note?"
