The night deepened, and the fragrant candles melted into tears.
Inside the Main House of Wang Yang's home, Wang Yang paced with his brows tightly knitted.
Chen Qing Shan and Little A-Wu had not gone to bed either. They sat to the right of the screen dividing the Main House from the Main Hall, silently watching Wang Yang pace through the dim yellow candlelight, his silhouette shifting.
From Chen Qing Shan's observations, Wang Yang had a distinctive way of pacing. Most of the time, he walked extremely slowly and covered very little ground, taking no more than four steps in one direction before turning back. He turned even more slowly, pivoting around one foot and shifting a little at a time. Sometimes his left hand pinched the edge of his right palm, pinching, releasing, then pinching and releasing again, usually three or four times. His head would tilt slightly along with it. He looked a little dazed, a little foolish, and a little adorable.
Most of the time, though, he looked very wise. As for what looking wise actually meant, Chen Qing Shan could not describe it herself. Perhaps it was his utterly absorbed expression? Or perhaps his gaze, so deep it seemed unfathomable? In any case, his eyes, his nose, the peaks of his brows, and the corners of his lips all gave Chen Qing Shan a sense of wisdom and steadiness. Of course, they were also very handsome.
That impression was especially pronounced when he counted on his fingers.
His fingers were long, their pads glowing softly beneath the halo of candlelight. First, his thumb slowly folded into his palm, followed by his index finger, then his middle finger... Once all five had curled in, he would extend them again one by one. Sometimes he hesitated, seemingly unable