The sunset gradually slanted westward, and in early December, Capital City entered a desolate winter.
Looking around, apart from the evergreen trees, all the branches were bare.
Evelyn Wilson sat by the window at Grace Adams Tea House and watched people and traffic on the road.
The waiter brought a pot of Dahongpao and a dish of American Large Almonds, and Grace Adams poured Evelyn Wilson a cup of tea.
"Thank you." Evelyn Wilson lifted it and thanked her, sipping it.
Grace Adams put down her teacup and said lightly, "You're welcome."
The tea house environment was relatively quiet; many people were sipping tea while flipping through books.
Silence lingered between them.
Evelyn Wilson looked at the woman across from her, who was about the same age as her mother, and after a long time, suddenly spoke: "You are more suitable for my father than my mother."
Grace Adams lowered her head and smiled, saying nothing.
