The soft tap of knuckles against wood echoed down the silent hallway. Fang Youcheng held his breath and waited.
One second, two seconds... There was no response from inside.
Did he not hear? He hesitated, then knocked again, harder this time. The sound rang out much more clearly.
Still, there was only silence. The distant hum of the air-conditioning system made everything around him seem even quieter.
An inexplicable uncertainty rose in Fang Youcheng's chest. Tentatively, he reached out and gave the dark wooden door a gentle push.
The door slid open a crack without a sound-it was unlocked.
His heart jolted. A mixture of tension and unease gripped him, making him peer through the gap with even greater care.
Only a lamp at the corner of the desk was lit in the office, its dim yellow glow outlining a figure slumped over the broad desk.
Only the vintage lamp at one corner of the desk was lit in the office. Its hazy light left most of the room shrouded in shadow. And at the center of that dim yellow glow, the figure Fang Youcheng had always imagined sitting ramrod straight, in control of everything, was now... sprawled over the broad solid-wood desk.
Ji Yunhuai was asleep.
His head was turned toward the door, resting on one arm. His hair, so meticulously groomed during the day, now fell untidily across his forehead, partly covering his brows and eyes.
The lamplight cast faint shadows over his straight nose and tightly pressed thin lips. Those eyes, always sharp enough to see right through people, were closed, his long, thick lashes casting small, fan-shaped shadows beneath them.
He had even forgotten to take off his blue-light glasses. Their thin metal frames had slipped halfway down his nose, the lenses reflecting a faint glimmer.