He didn't turn on the light, and the cigarette looked like a firefly, flickering on and off.
Five minutes passed once he finished smoking a cigarette.
Was Feng Yihang really at ease with what happened today? Although she behaved very normally at night, showing nothing out of the ordinary.
Yet the more she acts like this, the more he worries that she's just pretending.
Maybe right now she's hiding under the covers, crying secretly.
Feng Yihang hesitated for a few seconds, placed a hand on the balcony railing, extended his long leg, and silently slipped into Feng Yihuan's room.
He intended not to let her find out, of course, he wouldn't make any noise.
If he didn't have at least this much stealth, he would be embarrassed to call himself someone trained by their father.
He entered the room, and there was still a dim bedside lamp left on, the light was faint, but it was enough to see her sleeping face clearly.
He took a deep breath, seems like he was overthinking.
