In the general public's impression, those called professors are usually cultured and slender scholars, or those with white-streaked hair, wearing glasses, and exuding an air of bookishness.
However, these traits would hardly be discernible on a mountain of a man standing over two meters tall.
This mountain of a man now flashed a warm smile at Ai Qing, his face shining brightly with grease, blinding like the sun. His hands kept moving, skillfully manipulating instruments that seemed excessively delicate for his thick fingers.
"Coffee or tea?"
"Coffee," said Ai Qing, "without sugar."
Soon, a steaming cup of coffee was served in a fine cup, placed on the saucer before Ai Qing.
The Professor swiveled in his enormous, comically large chair, opened the refrigerator beside him, and began taking out all kinds of exquisite cakes, puddings, chocolates, macarons, fruits from Yingzhou, a mille-feuille pastry from Rome...
"It's just about time for dinner. Let's eat together."
