The dining chamber was small. Not like a clan manor, just an inn's private room, refined but far too enclosed for comfort.
All four of them sat at the table. And Ningyan sat among them. Eating. Or at least trying to.
He kept his head down, carefully avoiding everyone's gaze as he moved his chopsticks with exaggerated focus.
He should have prepared himself. He knew it would be awkward.
But knowing it and sitting here, surrounded by them were entirely different things.
His throat had gone dry.
At some point, he'd started drinking more water than actually eating.
The room was quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Only the faint sounds of utensils against porcelain broke the silence.
And one very obvious problem. Yan Wuhen.
He wasn't hiding it. Not even a little.
His sharp, burning gaze stayed locked on Lan Meishan. His grip around his wine cup tightened until faint cracks began to spread along its surface.
