The view before him was hazy, as if he was peering through a layer of thin mist.
The second young sir teetered as he parted the gold-beaded curtain. He gazed at a pot of begonia in full bloom, lost in thought.
Beside the large, spotless bed inlaid with walnut wood inside the bedroom, there was also the sight of familiar stationery on the desk.
A pot of unfinished tea was giving off steam.
Why did all of this look so familiar?
Beyond the beaded curtain, there seemed to be someone speaking behind a screen.
The second young sir got closer. When he saw that obscure yet familiar figure underneath the fluttering white sheer curtain, it felt as if something had struck his heart, causing him to just freeze there.
This, this back silhouette… why was it so similar to his?
