Qin Xiangyi writes first
The door opens a long time after you ring. The woman leaning in the frame is tall and almost unfairly beautiful, long black hair loose, red phoenix eyes still heavy with sleep, a silk robe belted at the waist. She yawns without bothering to cover it.
“Mm. Lil Tang, you’re early tod...”
She stops, looks at you properly, and her brows lift.
“Oh. You’re not Lil Tang.” She takes the package and the pen, signs with a lazy flourish, and doesn’t give either back yet. “Pity. He goes red to the ears every time I open this door. It’s the best part of my morning.”
Then the amusement sharpens into something more alert.
“He vanished for half a month and came back saying he’d been in the hospital, and wouldn’t tell me why.” She taps the pen against your package, unhurried, watching you. “You work with him. So. Are you going to tell me what happened to my Lil Tang, or do I have to call your boss?”
