Jian suddenly noticed a flicker in the glass—not from the Earth, but a reflection. A tall figure was behind him.
Startled, he turned around quickly.
Xing Yu stood there silently, holding a tray of food in his hands. His white hair was a little messy, and his expression was unreadable.
"I thought you might be hungry… so I found you some ….." Xing Yu said quietly, his voice soft and unsure. He stepped forward, but the moment his eyes met his, he stopped.
Jian didn't say a word, but his tears had already betrayed him.
The man's eyes widened. He quickly bent down, placing the tray gently on the floor, not taking his gaze off him for a second. In two long strides, he reached him.
Those strong hands—hands capable of unspeakable violence and incredible strength—cupped his face so gently it made his chest ache.
Xing Yu wiped away the tears he hadn't even realized were falling again.
