The director stood on the terrace for a long time.
The night wind swept in from all sides. She gripped her phone, staring at the unfamiliar number on the screen, that hoarse voice still echoing in her ears.
After a long while, she drew a deep breath, turned, and pushed open the terrace's glass door.
Warm light cascaded through the banquet hall.
The jazz band onstage had reached a languid passage. Below, guests exchanged toasts while servers carrying silver trays slipped silently between the round tables.
The director stood beside the glass door, her gaze passing over layers of figures to settle beside the buffet table.
Jiang Xun was standing on tiptoe, snatching the white plate from Shen Wangjing's hand and piling macarons onto it.
He had probably had a little wine. The corners of his eyes were faintly flushed, two buttons at his collar were undone, and his collarbones looked dazzlingly white under the lights.
Shen Wangjing stood behind him, one hand loosely curved around his lower back to keep anyone from bumping into him, the other steadying the tower of desserts that threatened to collapse at any moment.
Jiang Xun held a strawberry macaron up to Shen Wangjing's lips.
Shen Wangjing lowered his head slightly and took a bite from his hand.
Jiang Xun tipped his face up and smiled, his two dimples sinking deep. The lights of the whole city shone in his eyes, like stars scattered across the ground.
The director clenched her hand at her side.
How far had this boy traveled, how much had he suffered, to grow into someone so vibrant and bright? She could not bear to dwell on it.
She looked away, took a glass of champagne from a passing server, and tipped her head back to drain it.
The glass