The muffled echo of footsteps in the hallway.
Ji Yuzhe straightened up so fast his back cracked. He knew those footsteps. The rhythm of them. The weight. He'd listened to Feng Suyin walk toward him and away from him so many times he'd lost count. Outside her apartment door now, he stood rigid, blind eyes fixed on nothing, heart slamming so hard he thought she might hear it through the wood.
Uncle Jia shifted beside him. Suit fabric rustling. A soft exhale that said I'm worried but I won't say it directly.
"Young Master." Pause. "Are you sure about this?"
Ji Yuzhe's fingers squeezed his cane until his knuckles went white. The silver handle bit into his palm.
"I've never been more sure of anything."
The words came out steady. His insides were not steady. His insides were a mess of want and fear and something hot that lived under his ribs every time he thought about her. He told himself it wasn't a lie. He needed it not to be a lie.
The footsteps stopped.
