Yun Shifei walked toward the private room with Zhao Pan.
The closer she got, the more unsettled she felt. Cheng Lie had probably grown into a little big-shot by now, hadn't he? She wondered how he was doing.
The door opened, and Zhao Pan said to Yun Shifei, "Miss Yun, please."
Yun Shifei stepped inside and saw the young man sitting on the sofa.
After half a year without seeing him, his face had shed some of its youthful softness. His features were sharper, his facial structure more defined—a boy transitioning into a man.
The calm and unperturbed demeanor he carried was even more pronounced now.
He wore a black shirt, his complexion pale as ever, but his eyes, once indifferent, now sparkled with intensity. Yet beneath it all, there was still an icy, dark undertone.
This was a feeling distinctly different from the Cheng Lie Yun Shifei had once known.
Back then, Cheng Lie was cold, but she had attributed it to his autism—it felt natural at the time.
