Li Zhaoheng's gaze passed over Shen Wangjing's shoulder and landed on the shaggy head at the hospital room door.
That head was wedged beside the gap in the door at an extremely contorted angle, half its face exposed beneath the fluorescent lights in the corridor, the other half still hidden behind the door.
His eyes sparkled like a kitten poking its head out of its nest in the middle of the night to inspect a stranger.
Their eyes met.
Jiang Xun blinked, showing not the slightest guilt at being caught eavesdropping. He pushed the door another half inch open and edged out from behind it.
In all his years, Li Zhaoheng had met more people than Jiang Xun had taken steps, but when the boy stood there, his gaze still lingered for a full two seconds.
A small face, a pointed chin, excessively fair skin, and eyes so dark and bright that a darting glance brought the whole room to life.
His beauty had a rare wildness to it, neither orderly nor docile, like a flower shaped by the wind on a cliffside, its stems and leaves bristling with thorns, yet blooming so brilliantly it dazzled.
Li Zhaoheng narrowed his eyes.
The boy really was exceptionally good-looking. There was no need to guess; he had to be the Jiang family's recently reclaimed younger son.
Before Li Zhaoheng came to Capital City, the materials his secretary provided had briefly mentioned that Jiang Changping's child, who had been lost for seventeen years, had only been brought back into the family a few months ago.
Li Zhaoheng had not been particularly interested in the Jiang family's affairs, but now that he had seen the boy in person, a thought suddenly came to him.
His disappointing younger grandson, Li Jingyao, chased pretty boys all