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The moment the door of the room closed, Yang Fan felt the unnecessary thoughts in his mind seemed to shut off as well.
Though a worldly man greedy for wealth and sensual pleasures, he had needlessly posed as a paragon of romance, which seemed to have created trouble for himself.
Wei Juan looked timidly at Yang Fan as he turned back to her, her expression somewhat anxious.
She could clearly see that Yang Fan was preoccupied, but with him not initiating any conversation, she didn't know how to begin offering comfort or even think of a topic to divert the attention.
The old room emitted a unique scent of wood, not unpleasant to the nose.
For those who appreciated the texture of wood, this aroma might even be appealing.
The bright light illuminated both of them so clearly that Yang Fan could make out every subtle expression on Wei Juan's face.
