Breakfast at the Yang mansion was an event in itself - a spread of delicate dim sum, steamed buns, scallion pancakes, warm chicken soup and seasonal fruits arranged meticulously, all credit to Yang Bingqing. Yang Bingqing was very proud of the feast she had prepared.
Jia sat at the edge of her chair, quietly holding the ceramic bowl with both hands. The red bean porridge inside was warm but her fingers felt cold. She was still trying to get used to this world where each corner of the Yang mansion whispered a different story than the one at her own small apartment.
"Did you sleep well last night, Jia?" Bingqing asked, her voice warm and gaze beaming.
"Yes, Aunt," Jia said, trying not to flinch under her gaze. "The room is very beautiful…B-But-"
Bingqing nodded in appreciation. "If you don't like the room, you can tell me. I will arrange another one right away! How about the closest one to mine?" Her eyes sparkled.
"I…"
