Stars twinkle, and a gentle evening breeze blows.
Wen Xin looks exhausted, nestled in an armchair beside the hospital bed, her breathing short and deep.
"Madam?"
Assistant Zhao Jin is afraid of waking Wen Xin, yet he has no choice but to wake her at this moment.
The esteemed guests from abroad have already checked into Sea City's top six-star hotel, and the meeting she arranged with them is in two hours.
"Um, what time is it?"
Adjusting to a more comfortable position, Wen Xin opens her sleepy eyes, and her gaze first falls on the man on the hospital bed, filled with longing, helplessness, and deep-seated hatred.
"It's ten past nine."
"You go ahead and entertain them; I'll drive there later myself."
Massaging her aching temples, Wen Xin feels uncharacteristically weary all over today, as if the woman who hadn't had a visit from Cold Flu in over a year was finally graced by its presence.
