The maid, already busy at the stove, glanced at her and offered a small, knowing nod. Fang Lin returned it with a strained smile, slipping into the routine of chopping, stirring, and arranging ingredients.
Each motion required focus, and for the first time in what felt like hours, she let the mundane tasks absorb her, keeping her mind from spiraling back to Yueyao's fragile state.
She forced herself to speak in measured tones, giving simple instructions and asking polite questions, all while her heart still pounded under the surface.
Inside, her thoughts raced, replaying the psychologist's warnings, the careful balance Jin Shuren maintained, the scent that had calmed Yueyao, and the weight of responsibility she now carried.
