Lin Wan Yi put down her pen and gently sighed.
She tilted her head and froze.
In the corner of the desk, a small row of neatly arranged pencils was laid out.
Each one was sharpened to a perfect point, the tips long and glinting black.
Like a squad of soldiers waiting for her inspection.
She looked up.
Gu Yanshen, sitting on a small stool, had at some point put down the military knife he was holding.
He brought over a basin of warm water and placed it by her feet.
Then, he squatted down and held her hand that had just finished writing.
Lin Wan Yi's fingers were stained with a few stubborn ink marks.
Gu Yanshen picked up a towel, wetted it, and wrung it dry.
With his eyes lowered, he carefully wiped her fingers one by one with the warm towel.
His movements were light and slow, focused as if he were cleaning a priceless treasure.
In the dim yellow light, his well-defined profile appeared incredibly gentle.
Lin Wan Yi didn't speak.
