Lin Xia was woken up by the sunlight on the pothos leaves on the window sill.
She turned over, and her fingertips touched the warm plush blanket at the head of the bed - it was the one she spotted at first sight when she visited a cultural and creative store last week. It was off-white and decorated with small daisies, and wrapped around her body like a cloud. Stretching and sitting up, the sound of steaming steamed buns in the breakfast shop downstairs could be heard outside the window, mixed with the sound of the flapping wings of early birds. She stepped on the wooden floor with her bare feet and watered the succulents on the windowsill first.
Doesn't the heroine have to work?