Yun Mo glanced at the man in the photo and swiftly tucked it back into the pages of the book.
He took a deep sigh. His eyes filled with gloom, pain, and even a transient hint of hatred. His thoughts were chaotic, memories of this man and past sorrows flooding his mind. Yet he quickly reined in his turbulent emotions.
Brushing the damp strands of hair from Qiaoqiao's cheek, he managed a faint smile, "I have some things to deal with in my study, you should sleep first."
"Amo?" Qiao Xiaon'an was worried.
However, Yun Mo, clutching the book with the photo, rising from the bed with only a bath towel wrapped around him, turned and left without a word. The sight of his dejected figure departing filled the air with melancholy.
He never looked back.
Qiao Xiaon'an followed only to see him sitting at his study desk, engrossed in the photo of that man.
Behind him was a black bookshelf and black curtains, ahead of him, a gray-white couch and a gray carpet.
