When he returned to the villa, it was already ten o'clock in the evening.
Su Wantang was sitting on the living room sofa with a thin blanket over her legs and a book held in her hands, but she clearly hadn't read much of it—the pages hadn't been turned for a long time.
Hearing the sound of the door opening, she raised her head almost immediately. The relief and gentleness that instantly bloomed in her eyes were clearly visible under the lights.
"You're back."
She put down the book, stood up, and naturally took Zhao Chen's taken-off coat. "The soup is still warm. Would you like some?"
"Okay." Zhao Chen followed her into the kitchen, watching her ladle the soup with gentle movements under the warm yellow light.
Her off-white loungewear set off the gentle contours of her profile, her long hair loosely coiled up with a few stray strands hanging beside her neck.
"Didn't you go out today?" Zhao Chen sat down at the dining table, taking the bowl of soup she handed him.
"I didn't feel much like moving." Su Wantang sat down opposite him, her hands folded on the table, her fingertips tapping unconsciously.
"And... I figured you might come back at any time."
She said this sentence very softly, but Zhao Chen understood.
Today was New Year's Eve.
A night that should have been spent with family, or at least with someone close.
He had spent the day with Shen Zhiyi, and in the evening... he chose to come back.
"Sorry, I'm back late."
Zhao Chen took a sip of the soup, the warm liquid warming him from his throat all the way to his stomach.
"I had dinner with Zhiyi and the others tonight, and we chatted for a while."
"You don't need to apologize."