In the stillness, the sudden knock at the door sounded especially clear.
Ji Fengyao wore a navy trench coat. Somehow, he made the mature color look distinguished and inscrutable.
"I could hear the shouting from a long way off. What were you talking about? Let me hear it."
His sharply defined features betrayed no expression. This, perhaps, was what it meant to show neither joy nor anger.
Yet that simple remark conveyed the most direct, useful piece of information.
Shock flashed across the faces of everyone in the private room. Once they recovered, they all straightened up and greeted him respectfully.
Except for Ji Huaijin, who had already received word and tipped him off.
"Mr. Ji."
"Hello, Uncle."
Of everyone present, only Lin Shuyang could call him Uncle on the strength of their childhood connection.
Of course, there was also Cheng Yue, and Fang Lele, who had looked as though his soul had left his body the moment Ji Fengyao appeared.
He felt as though he were dreaming. How else could the man who had unsettled him for so long appear so unexpectedly before him, here in Capital City, at this very moment?
Then a large, cool hand lifted his chin.
"Are you that cold?"
Those familiar features came into view. Fang Lele looked up at him, and in that instant, all his panicked emotions seemed to find an outlet.
His nose stung, and tears quickly filled his eyes. He wanted to say something, but something seemed to block his throat, leaving him only able to shake his head gently.
The comfort he had imagined never came. Ji Fengyao gazed at him for a few seconds, then withdrew his hand indifferently, as though he had not noticed the hurt in his eyes.
"Brother Chu's son?"
Chu Jiye had remained silent