Mingshu returned to Jingxin Studio without showing any signs of strangeness.
Si Chu sat by the window reading a book, a lamp burning on the desk flickered, casting dim and fluctuating light across his face. His long lashes cast a shadow, and he looked focused, surprisingly docile.
When Mingshu entered, the tip of Si Chu's finger that was resting on the desk trembled slightly, but he didn't turn his head.
He seemed to be engrossed in his book, but in truth, his thoughts had already been captured by Mingshu's movements. The words on the page seemed to turn into rows of ants, and he couldn't make out a single one, the pages remaining unturned.
Mingshu walked in.
Today, she was unusually quiet and did not chatter to him about the people and events she encountered as she usually did.
Si Chu unconsciously furrowed his brow, his lips tightening slightly.
Was she... still angry about what happened during the day?
