The sun outside the window shines brightly, the thick double-glazed windows isolating the cold winds, leaving only the pleasant winter sunshine spilling into the living room. I lie on a large rocking chair, a whimsical purchase presumably made by Qianqian, swinging back and forth in the winter afternoon sunshine, feeling drowsy, resembling a wicked, wealthy landlord. Dingdang runs back and forth along the armrest of the rocking chair, occasionally grabbing my buttons to swing like a monkey, demanding to go out and play, but no one pays attention to this little one who finally overcame jet lag and is now overly excited. In the periphery of my vision, black and white maid attire flashes by—from the coffee table, Anwina is busy cleaning the room; Little Ghost always travels the shortest path between two points.
Life is so leisurely, the world rather beautiful, I feel like I'm about to transcend into immortality.
