The luxurious living room, spacious enough to host a ball, was hushed into stillness. The high crystal chandelier above bathed everything in warm golden light, its brilliance glinting off the glass-topped tables and polished marble floor. But the five people sitting within the lavish space were blind to the room's grandeur.
On the main sofa, four men and one woman sat—though no one could claim it was a harmonious scene.
Sīān lay stretched across the cushions, his head pillowed on Lan Qíshēng's lap. His eyes were closed, his expression deceptively peaceful, yet the faint twitch of his brows and the pallor of his lips betrayed the truth. He wasn't sleeping. He was simply… retreating. His body, battered by exhaustion, demanded rest, but his mind refused him the comfort of slumber.
