In the teahouse, Cen Feng was drinking tea with Wang Zhensheng.
Her face was rosy, and she stretched out her fingers from time to time to touch the simple gold ring on her left hand. Her eyes were full of satisfaction, which was completely different from the haggard appearance she had before.
"Sister Cen, we haven't had tea like this for many years." Wang Zhensheng sighed and refilled Cen Feng's cup with half a cup of Longjing.
The tea leaves, which become more and more tender because they are fully brewed, are swirling and rising in the cup, which looks very pleasant.
Cen Feng raised the tea cup to her lips, gently blew the tea leaves aside, and took a small sip, "Yes, thinking about the past few years, life was worse than death."
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