He Xing returned to the villa, everything was as usual. The servant was wiping the green plants in the living room and immediately rose to greet him with a bow upon seeing him.
He took the stairs two at a time and pushed open Fu Han's room, which was as disheveled as if it had just been robbed.
Without a second thought, it had to be Fu Han's doing.
He Xing clenched his teeth so hard they made a grinding sound, his gaze falling upon the desk where a piece of paper was held down by an inkstone.
"I'm gone. Don't look for me. Tell Grandfather I'll visit when I have time."
The departure note was simple, with no beginning or end, but He Xing recognized the handwriting as Fu Han's.
For three years, this was the first time he had seen Fu Han's writing, still familiar and graceful with a fountain pen, but the strokes were now deeper, pressing through the paper, the edges of each character seemingly more incisive than before.
