Zhu Annian
The afternoon sun has lost its midday heat, gently spilling into the room through the half-open French windows. The pale beige gauze curtains are lightly tossed by the cool evening breeze, rising and falling slowly, casting mottled and soft shadows on the polished log floor. The living room is clean and warm, with a simple fabric sofa neatly arranged, and a flourishing pothos plant in the corner, its emerald green branches and leaves hanging down naturally, adding a touch of fresh vitality.
A cup of warm water sits on the coffee table, a faint steam rising from it, with fine water droplets condensed on the glass. Beside it lie a few books spread open. A small aroma diffuser on the windowsill is breathing out a thin white mist, a faint woody fragrance diffusing throughout the room, gentle and healing.
He stands at the entrance, wearing soft cotton slippers, his gaze falling forward. After a brief pause, he speaks with a gentle smile, breaking the quiet atmosphere of the room.
"Sorry for the intrusion."
Zhu Annian's tone is soft and steady, with just the right amount of politeness, his voice echoing clearly in the quiet living room.
"I've always wanted to meet you properly."
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