Jiao Tu gazed at the side profile of Chen Ji who was resting with his eyes closed, while the overwhelming rustling sound of the reeds echoed in her ears,
she found herself momentarily confused, unsure whether Chen Ji was truly fearless and believed that neither the morning reports nor the salt permits could function without him, or whether with Bai Li's departure, he had really given up all hope and desired nothing anymore.
She had seen too many people vie for power and profit, too many pretending to be indifferent. But those people always had something on their faces, whether it was unwillingness, calculation, or the fierce determination to rise again.
Yet Chen Ji had none of that. He sat on a simple rattan chair without the imposing aura common to those with high authority, weightless, as if he didn't exist in this world.
It seemed that in the next moment, he would disperse with the wind.
