The festive atmosphere of the New Year lingered in the crevices of the city, with red lanterns swaying lazily on the streets, as if savoring the clamor of the celebrations.
Fang Cheng stood in front of the club's floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the bustling and endless stream of cars outside, pressing the phone with the dialed number to his ear.
On the other end of the line, after a moment of busy tones, came a crisp, bell-like yet slightly weary voice:
"Hello?"
Fang Cheng was slightly taken aback, then immediately spoke:
"Lin Chuqiao, it's me, Fang Cheng, Happy New Year! What have you been busy with lately?"
Upon hearing Fang Cheng's familiar voice, Lin Chuqiao seemed to be instantly injected with a surge of energy, her somewhat tired spirit suddenly refreshed, and she laughed lightly:
"Oh, what a rare guest today, I usually can't find you in sight, it's rare for you to take the initiative to call me to wish me a Happy New Year."
