Lan Qíshēng noticed the shift first as a whisper, a subtle tightening in the air.
At the beginning, it was something he could almost ignore, something he could brush aside with a gentle smile or a casual remark. But as they walked deeper into the institute, the change in Sīān's mood became undeniable. The weight of it pressed down like an invisible storm cloud, suffocating, oppressive, and terrifying in its silence.
Ever since they had agreed to visit this place, Sīān had been restless, his usual indifference sharpened into something darker. But here, within these sterile white halls and behind the heavy steel doors, the shift had grown monstrous. The very aura radiating from him seemed to choke the light out of the corridor, and Lan Qíshēng, despite his own strength, felt as though he were walking beside a void that threatened to swallow him whole.
And he had no idea why.
How could he, when Sīān never told him anything?
Not about his past.
Not about his thoughts.
