Nuan Nuan Wu

Enclosed within a modest garden stands a towering tree, surrounded by vibrant blooms that hum with life each morning. Perched on the upper floor, she sips her tea, brush in hand, as golden sunlight filters through the leaves. Yet her peaceful routine is often interrupted—first by the ever-late delivery boy, and then by the inevitable question: “Yi Nuan, did you finish my tea again?” The tranquility of her artistic haven is constantly tested by these small but persistent disturbances.

The rustling leaves and fragrant blossoms create a serene backdrop, yet the missing tea and delayed parcels add a touch of playful frustration. She sighs, glancing at the empty cup, knowing full well who the culprit is. The sunlight dances across her sketches, but her thoughts drift to the absent courier and the mischievous tea thief. Even in this idyllic retreat, life has its little annoyances.

Still, she wouldn’t trade this quiet corner of the world for anything—well, maybe for a fresh pot of tea.