The rain had just begun to fall, tracing faint lines down the café window where Lin Feng sat, alone. The world outside moved in slow motion—pedestrians ducking under awnings, car tires slicing puddles, and the occasional rustle of newspapers bending in the wind.
He stirred his coffee but didn't drink it.
Instead, he waited.
A few moments later, the front door chimed softly. She entered like a brushstroke on silk—elegant, composed, and completely unhurried.
Li Ruoxi.
Her hair was tied in a low knot, the curve of her black coat following her every step. There was no perfume—only faint sandalwood, as if she'd been near incense or temples earlier. She sat opposite him, not bothering with greetings.
"You made waves too quickly," she said. "Now people want to know what's underneath."
Lin Feng offered a faint smile. "Curiosity isn't the same as interest."
