Ningyan was exhausted.
A bone-deep weight that turned his limbs to lead and his thoughts to sludge.
He didn't resist as Lan Meishan carried him, burying his face into Meishan's chest like a spoiled young master who had never known hardship.
His eyes were closed.
Whether he was truly asleep… or pretending, even he wasn't sure.
They had taken a private chamber in a high-grade inn. It was quiet, exclusive and empty of unnecessary eyes.
The moment they entered the chamber, Meishan moved straight to the bed and carefully placed Ningyan down.
Ningyan immediately turned away, curling slightly, his white hair spilling across the pillow in soft disarray.
He looked peaceful. Docile. As if he hadn't just threatened to burn down an entire clan hours ago.
Meishan's fingers brushed gently through his hair, tucking loose strands away from his face before he finally stood.
