It was already late.
The digital clock sitting quietly on the desk blinked 12:00 AM in pale red numbers, the soft glow casting faint shadows across the room. Zi Han stared at the numbers for a long moment before slowly lowering her gaze toward the boy seated beside her desk.
Ming Ye sat beneath the warm lamplight, one leg stretched slightly due to the lingering injury, a thick textbook open in front of him. His brows were faintly furrowed in concentration as he turned a page with lazy calmness, completely immersed in his work as though nothing unusual had happened between them over the past two days.
The scene looked almost ordinary.
Almost like before.
Like those nights when she tutored him willingly, when his presence had been slightly irritating but strangely comforting rather than suffocating. Back then, she had thought he was simply a difficult teenager whose character could be changed, but now she knew better.
