In a standalone house in the suburbs of the capital, Li Xianglu would certainly recognize this place if she came; she had been here before.
It was nearing the end of September, and the grape trellises were already heavy with fruit.
A woman in long sleeves with a mask on was picking grapes, carefully placing them into a basket at her feet.
This woman was Li Huan, who had been missing for quite some time. After filling a basket with grapes, she ascended the steps while the formidable man behind her carried the basket back to the living room.
In the center of the living room sat a large table, which had a scale atop it, a big bag of white sugar, and containers like funnels and basins.
Two people sat on the east side of the table; one appeared to be in his forties, while the other seemed in his seventies, with graying hair, squinting at Li Huan as she crushed and filtered the grapes into bottles brought in by the big man.
