A faint sandalwood fragrance permeated the air.
Jiang Nanshu stood at the entrance, locked in a gaze with the gilded Buddha statue.
"Why stand at the door? Come on in."
Without a word, Jiang Nanshu glanced at Zhou Yanxu and walked in.
First, she opened her umbrella and set it in the corridor, waiting for the rainwater to dry.
The house was lit with incandescent bulbs.
It was only then that Jiang Nanshu took a serious look at Zhou Yanxu's face—thin, sickly pale, wearing a grey monk's robe, with Buddha beads dangling from his right hand.
She surveyed the surroundings, especially focusing on the lights, "I thought temples only used candles."
"Times change, and so should temples. Wouldn't you like to see our bathhouse? It even has cozy air conditioning."
Jiang Nanshu: "..."
She choked on her words, meeting Zhou Yanxu's sincere eyes, and said with a cold tone, "I'd rather not."
