The study smelled faintly of old parchment and polished wood.
Light filtered in through the tall windows, catching dust motes in the air and casting long lines across the carpet, the kind of quiet, ordinary light that made the room feel older than it probably was. Ren Ning sat behind his desk, posture straight, hands folded loosely before him, the picture of a man perfectly at ease in his own domain. Across from him, Qin Ning occupied a chair with practiced ease, one leg crossed over the other, fingers resting on the armrest as though he owned the room rather than merely being a guest in it.
The door opened.
Jiang Ning stepped inside and closed it quietly behind him, the latch clicking softly into place.
His gaze flicked once over the room, taking in his father and his uncle without surprise, cataloguing the posture of each before he'd even finished crossing the threshold. He inclined his head slightly. "Father. Uncle."
