Jin Shuren's gaze flickered toward Yueyao's sleeping form, the faint rise and fall of her chest a fragile rhythm against the drone of the engines. He did not answer immediately, as though weighing how much to let slip, and how much to keep locked away.
"She's exhausted," he said at last, his tone cool, even. "Sleep is the only medicine she needs right now."
But Fang Lin's brow furrowed. She had grown up around her uncle long enough to know when his composure was a shield.
The edge in his voice was not worry, it was something harder, something brittle, like glass ready to crack.
"She looks frightened! Did Shen Xiao do anything to her?" Fang Lin pressed, her voice dropping lower as though afraid to wake Yueyao, "Did they do anything to her?
Jin Shuren's eyes shifted toward the window, the dawning light casting his features in sharp relief. His fingers tapped once against the armrest before stilling.
