Chapter 1:Implied meaning.(Part 1)
A soft rustling sound echoed as the silk fabrics brushed against each other, carrying with it the distinctive scent of the material.
— Ah! — My exclaimed excitedly, as if she had just found a precious treasure.
She began to stride, her steps incredibly steady yet playful, like she was skipping. Suddenly, a hurried, reproachful voice rang out from behind. A small, lively girl, full of the youthful energy of sixteen, rushed forward.
She tugged at the corner of My's dress, her voice authoritative:
— Sister Jolinsove said you should hurry up, the customers are waiting, things are getting bad!
My continued walking leisurely, her delicate eyebrows only slightly furrowed:
— Why rush me? It's more engaging to take things slowly.
— Oh, sister! Sareh helplessly let go of the corner of her dress, then hurried back.
—"Hurry up, sis!" My smiled faintly, watching the small figure run away: "Okay, you're in such a hurry."
The smile on her lips suddenly faded, replaced by a deep, calculating look in her eyes. Her hand gently stroked the folds of the pink dress with its delicate spring flower pattern. It was exquisite, soft, and very flattering. Paired with a refined white shirt, though a classic style, it was adorned with the noble patterns of a true lady.
I descended into the main cellar, a long-standing wine cellar. As I gently pushed open the heavy wooden door, the strong aroma of wine and the stifling heat immediately assaulted my senses, as if wanting to engulf my entire body. The heat was unusually intense. I frowned slightly, a feeling of disgust rising within me. I didn't know how to drink wine, and certainly couldn't distinguish between good and bad. At this moment, there was no other way but to rely on my intuition. I ran my long, slender fingers, still retaining a touch of the softness of young bamboo shoots, across the glass bottles. The light touches created a melodious and pleasant clinking sound. Suddenly, my fingers stopped. I picked up a bottle of wine. That's right, it's this bottle of cider, the aroma is unmistakable! A satisfied smile curved my lips. Just then, Sareh's voice echoed down from above, filtering through the narrow cellar passage: "Sister, hurry up!" I tapped my finger lightly on the bottle, a look of great satisfaction on my face, and called back: "I know! Tell that woman with OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) to wait a bit." "You really are... I give up on you!" Sareh's grumbling faded and then died down.
