The candle flame burned upwards, swayed by the wind, then steadied like a roly-poly toy, silent as the stars in the night. Chen Yi lifted his gaze to look at the female crown. Yin Weiyin gathered her sleeves and leaned slantwise against the chair back, her demeanor calm and indifferent. Seeing him look over, she smiled slightly, neither too familiar nor too distant.
It had been a long time since Chen Yi had interacted with Yin Weiyin in this manner, and even he felt a bit uncomfortable with it.
He vaguely remembered that in Shantong City and on Taihua Mountain, he and Yin Weiyin were like this; those were tranquil days.
Back then, outside, Yin Weiyin always had the bearing of an Immortal Lady, and Chen Yi was happy to grant his household, Great Yin, some face, accompanying like an assistant, a golden boy and jade girl, never allowing the guest to overshadow the host. So many outsiders thought that he, Chen Yi, owed today's achievements to the Taichua Goddess.
