Steward Chen emerged from his memories and waved a hand. "It's windy outside. Let's talk indoors."
Yang Jing and Sun Ningxiang hurried after him into the wooden house.
The furnishings were simple. An old wooden table stood in the center, with several benches on either side and stacks of documents in a corner. A faint scent of ink and paper lingered in the air.
Steward Chen sat in the chair behind the wooden table and gestured toward the bench opposite him. "Sit."
Just as the two sat down, the sect disciple who had guided them there was still standing at the doorway. Seeing how gently Steward Chen treated them, with even a hint of familiarity, he could not help feeling surprised.
Although Steward Chen was not usually stern, he rarely showed newcomers such courtesy.
Not daring to linger, the disciple hurriedly said respectfully, "This disciple will take his leave."
With that, he gently closed the door and withdrew.
Only the three of them remained in the wooden house, and the atmosphere grew much quieter.
Light filtered through the window lattice, casting dappled shadows across the floor.
Steward Chen picked up the envelope from the table. His gaze fell on the words addressed to Peak Master Qin of Mountain-Suppressing Peak, to be opened by him personally. His fingertips brushed lightly over them, and a trace of wistfulness surfaced in his eyes.
After a moment of silence, he carefully put the envelope away in the cloth pouch at his waist.
"I'll deliver this letter to Peak Master Qin myself," Steward Chen said, looking up, his tone more solemn than before. "For now, follow someone to your lodgings and rest while you wait for news. Once there's a decision, I'll send someone to notify you."
"Thank you, Steward Chen." Yang Jing and Sun