Shen Fei saw those words and turned to glance at Xiao Ning'er.
Xiao Ning'er happened to be looking at him too, and their eyes met for about a breath. She said nothing, but there was no reluctance in her gaze.
From the moment they entered the village, the clan chief and the scholar had been candid with them. They had offered them a guest house, invited them to dinner, and volunteered their own history without concealing anything.
Though they could not speak each other's language, that open, unguarded warmth was genuine.
When a clan that had been cut off from the world for nearly three hundred years encountered outsiders of their own people, their first response was to invite them in for a meal and a chat. Such simplicity and openness could not be feigned.
Shen Fei turned the paper around, picked up the scholar's charcoal pencil, and wrote a single word: "Agreed."
He pushed the paper back. After reading it, the scholar turned and said something to the clan chief. The chief's smile deepened, and he raised his tea bowl toward Shen Fei and Xiao Ning'er as though offering a toast.
Shen Fei raised his own bowl in return and took a sip. Xiao Ning'er followed suit, lifting her bowl and sipping from it.
Throughout all this, the deputy clan chief, Tie Xiong, had not said a word.
He finished the plate of meat in front of him and drank two bowls of tea. In between, he exchanged only a couple of sentences with the chief, speaking too quietly for Shen Fei to make them out. But his gaze never left Shen Fei.
It was not a hostile gaze. Shen Fei could tell the difference.
Hostility carried aggression and pressure, whereas Tie Xiong's gaze was more appraising and wary,