In the still hush of the early spring morning, the world outside melted into an inky veil, the line between indoors and the elusive outdoors blurred through the ambiguousness of the window paper.
The fusion of modern and ancient aesthetics, the elegant designs that once brightened his private chamber with charm and appeal, now seemed distant and unimportant to Xu Feng. They whispered of fortune and comfort, yet their sparkle failed to ease the unease brewing within him.
Despite a night of seemingly peaceful slumber and a smokescreen of calmness, a tempest raged within Xu Feng. The weight of his actions weighed heavily on his conscience, an uninvited guest casting shadows on the calm of the room.
His heart ached with the realization that, once again, he might have stirred chaos in the calm waters of lover's hearts.
First, it was Xuan Jian, then it was indirectly Xuan Yang, and now it was directly Xuan Yang.