After placing a cup of clear tea before Mo Yi, Cecilia's gentle smile was no longer as excited and shy as before. Perhaps making the tea had allowed her to calm down again. Yet in Mo Yi's eyes, she was still breathtakingly beautiful. Her feelings for Mo Yi were merely hidden deep within, expressed in a quiet, subtle way—like the cup of tea she had just served him. It was fragrant and refreshing, with an endless aftertaste that unconsciously relaxed whoever drank it.
"I haven't made tea in a while. If there's anything wrong with it, just put up with it. Don't you dare laugh."
Before Mo Yi, Cecilia was neither restrained nor overly polite. She directly voiced her thoughts. No one liked having something they had put great effort into being looked down on, especially by someone they cared about.
And Cecilia knew that Mo Yi was a native of Shenzhou, while Shenzhou was the true homeland of tea culture. Naturally, she feared that she might have made some mistake while brewing the tea and made a real expert like Mo Yi laugh at her. Showing off before an expert was bound to make one a laughingstock.
Of course, Cecilia was overthinking it!
She had made the mistake many outsiders made: foreigners always assumed everyone from Shenzhou knew kung fu.
It was, in truth, a stereotype.
Mo Yi smiled, picked up the cup, and drank directly. There was none of that seemingly profound routine of smelling it first, taking a small sip, waiting a while, then drinking again.
"Delicious—"
After setting down the teacup, Mo Yi tapped the table to indicate that he wanted another, praising it bluntly without caring in the slightest about revealing to Cecilia that he was a "crude man."
Seeing this, Cecilia's slender brows rose,