Janet Sinclair drove to the mountaintop and parked outside a private hot spring spa.
The atmosphere was wonderful. The temperature hovered around twenty degrees Celsius year-round, making it warm in winter and cool in summer.
A grove of moso bamboo surrounded the parking lot, lush and verdantly green.
A wooden plank path, wide enough for two people, wound through the bamboo. A gentle stream flowed through narrow channels on either side, evoking the idyllic image of a rustic home by a bridge over a creek.
This time, Janet Sinclair didn't bother changing her shoes, leading Aurora Sinclair toward the spa in her flats.
The owner of the spa was a woman in her thirties, with a gentle and pleasant appearance. A fine line was drawn through her naturally faint eyebrows, and her eyes were beautifully shaped. When she smiled, two lovely crescents appeared just beneath them.
