In the room, no one spoke, only the "whoosh" of the hairdryer in Daisy Ginger's hand could be heard.
The warm air scattered the fresh and elegant fragrance on her body after the shower into the air. Edward Stephens opened his eyes and looked at Daisy Ginger's back turned to him, with her fluffy, curly long hair and slender, graceful waist wrapped under the silk robe.
At this moment, the bright morning sun had just started peeking through, casting pale pinkish shadows on the transparent glass window, enveloping the room in a hazy scene.
The woman's silhouette, the damp fragrance in the air, the dim and misty light indoors, and the gradually rising morning sun outside... Edward Stephens felt as if he were gazing at an old oil painting, carrying a hint of fantasy and unreality.
He rubbed his temples and gently began to speak as Daisy Ginger turned off the hairdryer, "Was it Ian Linton who took you home yesterday?"
