It was late at night, and the Jiang family villa had fallen silent.
Shen Yuxing had drunk a cup of coffee Wang Ma brought him during the day, and now he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
He left the guest room and headed down the corridor toward the stairs, intending to get a glass of warm water from the kitchen, but his steps involuntarily slowed as he passed Jiang Xun's room.
No light shone through the gap beneath the door. Inside, it was as quiet as if no one lived there.
He lingered outside for a while, then withdrew his gaze and kept walking. Before he reached the kitchen door, he heard rustling.
Shen Yuxing instinctively took half a step back.
He hadn't spent very long in this house, but it had been long enough to learn one ironclad rule-appearing where he shouldn't in the middle of the night and seeing things he shouldn't was the worst possible bargain.
The next second, an exceedingly soft laugh suddenly came from the kitchen.
It was brief, like a satisfied breath someone let out after stuffing a bite of food into their mouth, its ending lifting slightly with the contentment of having eaten and drunk their fill.
Shen Yuxing froze. He recognized that voice.
He edged a step toward the kitchen door, leaned sideways against the doorframe, and peered inside.
The refrigerator door stood wide open, and cold light spilled from its compartments, illuminating the entire kitchen.
Jiang Xun sat barefoot on the kitchen counter with his back to the doorway, swinging his legs over the edge.
Spread across the counter in front of him were half a roast chicken, a plate of soy-braised beef, three custard buns, a carton of milk, and a dish of pickled radish he had dug out