Wang Xin's art studio.
Tang Feng entered the password.
He opened the door to the studio and walked in.
As always, it was still so quiet.
He glanced around, no one was in the living room.
Tang Feng walked toward the studio on the first floor.
In the tranquil studio, Wang Xin sat in front of the easel, wearing a blue printed pajama.
Her jet-black hair cascaded down her back, her graceful swan neck, her face flawless.
Sunshine streamed through the glass, casting a glow on Wang Xin.
She looked just like a breathtakingly beautiful painting.
Her ethereal aura captivated Tang Feng for a moment.
He slowly approached her.
Wang Xin's little hands were propped up under her chin, staring blankly at the easel.
Even as Tang Feng walked up beside her, she didn't notice.
His gaze fell on the easel.
It was a sketch of him.
Drawn so lifelike, especially those eyes, bright and spirited.
Tang Feng couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt inside.
