When you came to the second floor, doors to the Wongs appartement are already opened. Mr. Wong, still apparently unballanced, Invites you in. When you enter two the design and the genius loci Surprises you. Most of you were probably not expecting the genialy balanced coexistence of traditional Taoistic household side by side with state of the art hardware machinnery and hi-end equipement. You quickly realize, that appartement occupy not just this whole floor level, but expandes to upper floor via multiple caracols. Yet the design place semms to be drawn in clear lines, every space easilly accesible and interconected with others, pieces of technological equipement embeded to the design are not disruptive, more they highlight the symetry, spiritualy this place looks like "Ancient" and "Contemporary" in the jing-jang pattern.
The place seems quiet, but also pulsing with hiden energy. Mr. Wong leads you to the greater room, the almost centre of the apartement. On the west wall, there is small Taoistic shrine, The rest of the walls are covered by multiple artistic caligraphies.
In the center of the room there is low, round table with mattresses and cushions around.
Some aromatic sticks are filling the air with unknown odour, a few candles giving dim light to the room.
Even you, Lynx, feel almost like a human at this place...
The woman sits at the table, chineese origin, mid forties, tired, desperate look in her eyes. She is dressed to light silk tunic, visible tensions of her musculature and hightened temperature, obvious to those of you who posess thermographic vision, announces that she was doing some physical exercise a few moments ago. She holds cup of tea in both hands, watching you approaching. An old men, local but also a stranger in some strange way, sits close to her, studying Trigrams composed on the table in front of him. He is deeply concentrated, hardly even notices your coming.
With internationaly acknowledged gesture of hospitality, Mr. Wong offers you the place at the table, kneel at his own place and fills your cups wit the tea from the traditional pot, that stands on the table.
Gentlemen, meet my wife. Darling, These gentlemens are here to help us to find our child. Do you handle it? ("child" he says with soft, trembling voice...)
Mrs. Wong looks at him, then reaches for his hand and nods firmly.
Her melodic voice gives away a little of trauma she is experiencing.
I would try to answer every your questions, if needed. just please...if you get the feeling, that our situation is hopeless, be honest. There is nothing worse than mothers false hopes...
