Fu Teng stepped out from behind the inner curtain after changing his clothes.
His outer robe had been replaced with something simpler and lighter, and the faint scent of rain still lingered in the room from earlier that night.
For a moment, he said nothing.
He walked toward the window slowly and pushed it open slightly.
Cool night air entered at once.
From where he stood, he could see the roofs of the nearby houses stretching into the distance under the lantern light. The unit was quieter now. Most people had already returned indoors for the night, and only a few scattered lights remained visible.
Fu Teng rested one hand lightly against the window frame.
His expression remained calm.
But his thoughts were not.
An Yu.
The memory returned too easily.
The conversation from earlier.
The way An Yu had looked at him.
The familiarity in his voice.
Fu Teng lowered his gaze slightly.
Then he heard movement behind him.
He turned.
Zhao Yin was seated near the table now.
