The sound of clinking porcelain was particularly clear in the empty kitchen.
I held the tray and tied the white lace apron with a delicate bow at the back. I bent down and placed the freshly ground Blue Mountain coffee on the coffee table. The steam rises with a mellow aroma, creating a mist in the morning light.
"Mr. Gu, your coffee."
The voice is gentle that I have practiced for nine years, with just the right amount of respect, neither humble nor overbearing. I took a half step back and folded my hands in front of me, as perfect as a porcelain doll in the window.
Gu Beichen was sitting on the sofa, holding a tablet in his hand. On the screen was a financial statement that I couldn't understand. He didn't look up, just said "hmm" and slid his slender fingers across the screen.
I turned and walked towards the stairs, ready to tidy up the bedroom on the second floor.
