Shanghai was already quite chilly in November, with the occasional overcast day and cold, drizzling rain.
That evening, Wang Yan drove to Night Tokyo for dinner again. The moment he pushed open the door, he saw Lingzi sitting at a table, lost in thought.
"Bad mood?"
"You know it, yet you still ask. Just got back from Hong Kong? We're all friends here, so make yourself at home. I'm not in the mood to entertain you." Lingzi waved lazily, looking utterly listless.
Wang Yan did not mind. He went to the kitchen and had Little Monk make a few dishes, then helped himself to some peanuts and pickles. He found a seat by the window, took a bottle of Moutai and a glass from the counter, picked up that day's newspaper, and settled in to read comfortably.
Perhaps sulking by herself really was no fun. Lingzi grabbed a beer and sat across from Wang Yan. Without saying anything, she propped up her chin, spun her glass around, and drank now and then.
"Something happened?"
"I'm in a bad mood. Oh, Boss Wang, no wonder Teacher Ge always says you Little Northeast folks have no conscience. We're good friends—we've known each other for nearly three years—and you don't even care enough to ask after me?"
"If I cared about you, would President Bao be happy about that?"
"That depends on how you care~" Lingzi raised her brows at Wang Yan with a smile. She was already thirty-seven, not some shy seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl. She could take a joke.
Wang Yan shook his head with an amused smile. "Do you look like you're in a bad mood right now?"
"I really am. You remember Hair Root, right?"
"We had a meal together just a few months ago."
"Him. He died yesterday.