"Miao Angwen, right? Come in."
Each private room in the West River Clubhouse has a different design.
Sometimes, guests would walk out of the antique-style Eastern Study decorated with rosewood and sandalwood, and when they push open the door to the adjacent room, they're overwhelmed by the Louis XIV opulence of a French palace.
And here in front is a tea house in the Edo Era Japanese style,
A refined middle-aged man has a small stove in front of him, and the smoky mist spills from the purple clay pot, giving the room a layer of moisture.
The bald man stands silently beside the middle-aged man, wearing sunglasses, his muscles bulging under the black suit jacket, like an immovable sculpture or guardian Vajra.
"Hello, Brother Hao."
Miao Angwen cautiously stepped through the door to the private room, looking with awe at one of the most wealthy and powerful elite in Yangon City.
