"Don't."
"The hero arrives," Huo Ting Cheng commented, but his voice had lost its teasing edge. He was invested now, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
They read through the scene where Li Qian saves Su Wei, his quiet insistence that she wait until morning, that the water's colder at night. The understated care in his words.
"He's good," Tang Fei said softly. "Not overbearing. Not dramatic. Just... present."
"Like someone else I know," Huo Ting Cheng murmured against her ear, and she elbowed him gently.
"Keep reading."
The script unfolded like a gentle rain, the house by the hill, the unfinished paintings of Li Qian's lost wife, the slow revelation that he'd been the firefighter who'd tried to save Su Wei's brother.
Tang Fei's breathing had gone quiet, absorbed. Huo Ting Cheng's arms had tightened around her unconsciously, as if anchoring her while they journeyed through this story together.
