The doors of the study were open, and the night crept in, mingling with the dim glow of a solitary candle within.
Jiang Shouzhong stood outside the door, gazing at the slender figure obscured by the flickering shadows and hesitated for a moment. Ultimately, too embarrassed to step inside, he prepared to leave.
"Say what you want to say."
Ran Qingchen rubbed her pale wrist that was holding the pen and spoke faintly.
The soft play of light danced upon the woman, softening her usual sharp contours to only leave a trace of gentle and delicate beauty.
Jiang Shouzhong gave an awkward smile and entered the study.
"Did Ms. Jiang come by just now?" The man made conversation out of nothing.
"Hmm."
"She... didn't say anything, did she?"
"What do you think she would say?"
Ran Qingchen set down her fine brush and looked up at the man. Her beautiful eyes held the sharpness of a blade, yet also the softness of autumn water.
"I mean..."
