Morning sunlight sliced through the gap in the curtains like golden blades, carving alternating stripes of light and shadow across the dark carpet.
Dust drifted slowly through the shafts of light, as though last night's silent assassination attempt had never happened—just an illusion.
The atmosphere among Shrek Academy's group in the hotel restaurant was somewhat gloomy.
The long table was laden with all kinds of breakfast, yet hardly anyone touched their food.
Dai Mubai sat by the window, his fingers unconsciously tapping the tabletop as his wary gaze swept over the restaurant entrance.
Tang San held a cup of clear tea, his eyes half-closed as though he were working through some tactic in his mind.
Ma Hongjun yawned, dark bags hanging beneath his eyes.
Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing spoke quietly, occasionally glancing toward other corners of the restaurant.
Everyone had dark circles beneath their eyes. Clearly, none of them had slept well last night.
Except Han Yuchen.
He sat at the head of the table, peeling a golden orange in his hand with the leisurely air of someone taking a stroll through a garden in the afternoon.
He peeled the orange skin into the shape of a complete flower and neatly placed it by the edge of his plate.
He was even humming an unknown tune, its light melody utterly out of place with the restaurant's heavy atmosphere.
His face was rosy and glowing, and he looked as energetic as though he had just returned from a vacation.
Even more astonishingly, a faint, nearly invisible glow seemed to linger around him, as though the afterglow of the stars had yet to fade from his skin.
"Yuchen, you..."
Oscar bit into the sausage in his hand and hesitated. "There really wasn't any movement on your end last night?"
"What movement