Han Yu remained in his balcony seat, nursing the same cup of jasmine tea as he kept a watchful eye on the building across the street.
After a few more minutes, the window curtain shifted again, and Senior Sister Meng stood from her seat. Her movements were composed, almost graceful, but Han Yu caught the faintest tremor in her shoulders before she left the room.
By the time she stepped outside and walked down the building's front steps, the poise had returned to her stride. Her face, once pinched with strain during the meeting, now bore the same impassive serenity of a seasoned cultivator. From any outsider's perspective, she might have looked like a disciple returning from routine sect business.
But Han Yu had been watching her too closely for too long. He could see that something was off.
