Su Zhinian was half-collapsed before his computer. With a pen in his hand, he was deeply concentrating on writing something.
Song Qingchun assumed he was working, so she did not disturb him. After standing at the door for a while, she pushed the door open further and walked in with the coffee in hand.
The study was padded with thick carpet, so she created no sound when she moved.
When she was close, Song Qingchun realized Su Zhinian was writing on a notebook. His writing continued seamlessly; he did not stop to think or to make corrections.
Song Qingchun stared at the moving pen for a while before her gaze shifted to fall on his face.
He stared at the tip of his pen as if hypnotized. His face was in deep focus.
From her perspective, his eyes were looking down, and his lashes were illogically long.
