"You two look like death… and its slightly more stylish cousin," Zhai Liang muttered without looking up from his cup.
Immediately, Xiaorui perked up, practically launching himself out of his seat with the speed of a lightning bolt, nearly toppling his chair in the process. "Senior! Yuxi-jie—"
He didn't get to finish.
Yuxi shot him a cold, piercing glare that stopped him mid-motion—arms half-open like a confused scarecrow—as he slowly turned toward Qi Yan.
Without slowing his stride, Qi Yan exhaled wearily.
"If you don't want to die, don't come near me."
Xiaorui let out an awkward chuckle, his arms dropping to his sides.
From the side, Zhou Yishan muttered dryly,
"That's right, our dear Xiaorui if you don't want to die, dispel that thought of yours, your seniors are sensitive right now."
"Right… I forgot. We don't do warm reunions here."
To which Wei Daxun, seated nearby, surprisingly nodded in solemn agreement—instantly abandoning the witty remark he'd been preparing.
