The rain in Beijing is endless as soon as it starts, and it is so thin and dense that it seems to weave the entire sky into a gray net.
The bluestone pavement on the street has been washed clean, and people's shadows can be reflected. There are few pedestrians, and occasionally a few are holding oil-paper umbrellas and walking in a hurry.
The plaque of "Wu Shi Zhai" looked a little blurry in the rain, and the wood was deeply soaked by the rain, giving off an old smell.
Gu Yesi was half-lying on a bamboo rocking chair by the door, covered with a thin blanket and holding a half-cool heater in his hand. He closed his eyes slightly, and his long eyelashes cast a small shadow under his eyes. His overly pretty face had no blood color and exuded a sick air.
He listened to the sound of rain outside, one after another, like knocking on people's hearts, neither urgent nor slow, but making people irritated.
He wasn't actually sleepy at all, he was just too lazy to move.
He bought this antique shop three years ago. The location is not out of the way, but the business has not been very good. Everyone in the capital knows that the owner of "Wu Shi Zhai" is a medicine man. He coughs every day and collapses when the wind blows.
Very good, this is the effect he wants.
No one cares about a useless, dying rich man.
"Boss, boss?"
A high-pitched voice came from the door, breaking the silence in the room.
