The office was dimly lit.
A bronze lamp stood on the desk by the window, its flame pressed low by the draft, casting only a faint outline along Chen Wuya's profile. He sat in the seat of honor, his back perfectly straight, his fingertips resting motionless on the edge of a case file.
That was the first sight Yi Yang saw when he followed the personal guard inside.
His back was slightly stooped, and his steps were slower than usual, his boot soles dragging faintly against the blue-brick floor. Upon reaching the center of the room, he stopped and bowed, moving as slowly as a genuine old man.
"Your subordinate Yi Yang pays his respects to the deputy directors." His voice carried precisely the right measure of deference.
Seeing the man he had specifically summoned, Chen Wuya raised his eyes. His gaze settled weightlessly on Yi Yang, yet it was like a ruler measuring him from head to toe.
Only after two or three breaths did he slowly speak. "Sit."
One word, crisp and decisive. An attendant had already brought over a round stool and placed it beside Yi Yang. Yi Yang thanked him and sat sideways, his back still slightly bowed, his hands resting properly on his knees.
Chen Wuya stopped looking at him and lowered his head to open a document before him.
Silence settled over the office. There was only the occasional faint crackle of the wick and the distant footsteps of Patrol Guards changing shifts outside the window.
Yi Yang lowered his eyelids, his gaze resting on the coarse cloth over his knees. He could feel two gazes upon him-one from the seat of honor, the other from a seat to the side.
Both gazes were steady, without any sense of pressure. They simply rested quietly