An Can was very surprised that Lin Xianghua would find her at this time. Lin Xianghua still wore a smile, with a noble and elegant demeanor, and An Can sensed the unfamiliarity in her tone. This was a high-end tea restaurant with a classical charm, crowded yet quiet. They entered a private room, and Lin Xianghua took off her coat and hung it on a nearby rack, politely inviting An Can to sit. An Can did not refuse, and they each sat on opposite sides of a square table, with a waiter serving a pot of Biluochun tea.
Lin Xianghua took a light sip and said, “Miss An, how do you find the taste of this tea?”
An Can understood that the term “Miss An” created distance between them. She took a large gulp, not being a tea connoisseur and not wanting to pretend: “Auntie, I don’t understand tea. All tea tastes the same to me.”
Lin Xianghua smiled faintly: “You respect me as an elder, calling me Auntie.” She slowly sipped her tea: “You’re right. To those who understand it, this tea is a treasure; to those who don’t, it’s just grass.”
An Can was not used to beating around the bush but understood Lin Xianghua’s meaning, and spoke directly: “Madam Jun, I may be slow, but I know you didn’t invite me here just to taste tea.”
“Hehe…” Lin Xianghua chuckled: “Actually, you’re quite clever.” She pulled out a folder from her bag: “Look at this, and you’ll understand why I’m here.” She stared at An Can, not missing any subtle expression.
An Can took the folder, her expression changing from surprise to anger: “Is this how you rich people trample on others’ privacy?”
Lin Xianghua remained calm: “I first want to apologize for this matter, but I did not mean any harm.”
An Can couldn’t hide her anger. Her parents’ death was already a pain in her heart, and now the past was being brought up again: “Then tell me, what is this about?”
