The group left the runway and followed Old Tom into a house made from converted shipping containers.
The moment he pushed the door open, a wave of heat carrying the scent of pinewood washed over them.
Firewood CRACKLED in the fireplace, its flames licking a copper kettle on an iron rack. The rising steam blurred the frost flowers on the windowpanes.
"Honey, we have guests! Go make some coffee!" Old Tom yelled up to the second floor at the top of his lungs.
The sound of high heels clicking against metal steps came from the staircase.
A brown-haired woman descended gracefully, one hand on the carved banister. A red cashmere dress hugged her exquisite figure, and crystal icicle earrings swayed with her every step.
She planted a kiss on Old Tom's cheek.
Her lipstick left a bright mark on his rough skin. As she turned to look at Feng Shan, her gaze was flirtatious. "I'll go make the coffee now."
