Maureen entered the room to find an elderly man in a vest, sitting cross-legged, fully engrossed in blowing his cup of tea.
He looked similar to those practicing martial arts.
Upon hearing the footsteps, he raised his head to glance at Maureen.
His eyes held a vast, indescribable depth.
"Maureen? Come sit."
His voice carried an authoritative aura distinct to elders.
Maureen quickly braced herself and approached to sit down cautiously.
She tried to familiarize herself by saying,
"Hello, Grandpa."
"Who's your grandpa?"
The old man sneered, glancing at her.
The wrinkles on his face were etched deeply, filled with dissatisfaction.
Maureen remained silent.
The truth was, he was downright terrifying.
The mental preparation she had made beforehand collapsed entirely.
Despite his casual attire, the old man carried an aura of authority.
An immense invisible pressure radiated from him, as though a thousand-pound cauldron was placed on one's shoulders.
