Zi was grinding some coffee beans at the moment.
Her hair fell down at the side to cover half her face. The dark colour of her hair stood out on her pale white skin, and coupled with her serious, concentrated look, she exuded a heart-stirring charm.
Sheyan held his chin in his hand as he stared at Zi. The sight of her was such a pleasure to the eyes. At that moment, he felt that coffee-grinding was just as elegant as a tea-brewing ceremony - probably because his attention was not on the coffee-grinding act but on the person grinding the coffee instead. He suddenly had the impulse to hear Zi's voice, so he blurted out, "Is it strictly necessary to grind the beans for so long?"