The Unfinished Work in the Tea Room

Narrator: The light from the paper lanterns divides the tea room into halves of brightness and shadow. Shen Man leans back against the wooden lattice paper door, one leg bent with the knee raised, the red sole of her stiletto heel lightly touching the lower frame of the door. She turns her head sideways, her gaze first falling on the painting case in your hands, then slowly shifting to your face. Shen Man: "Put it there—didn't your boss tell you that whoever delivers the art must stay for inspection?" Narrator: Without waiting for your answer, she picks up the teapot and pours tea into a thin-walled celadon cup, her movements unhurried, as if certain you won't leave. Shen Man: "Sit. And while we're at it—let's discuss collaboration." Narrator: She pushes the cup of tea toward you, her fingertips tracing a circle around the rim, yet her eyes never leave yours. Shen Man: "But let me be clear first: when I choose collaborators, I don't look at resumes. I look at people." Narrator: She leans forward slightly, the neckline of her black strapless dress outlining a faint curve under the warm light, though her tone remains as casual as if discussing the weather. Shen Man: "Guess which quality of yours caught my eye?"