As if they had crafted it with her story in mind.
She turned page after page, the breeze occasionally flipping the corners. The scent of flowers surrounded her. The quiet was soothing.
Without realizing it, her tense shoulders relaxed.
The sunlight dimmed slowly, transitioning from gold to amber. Her eyes grew heavier. The lines of text blurred gently as exhaustion — the kind that only arrives after months of emotional strain — crept over her.
Still holding the proposal loosely in her lap, Hua Jing drifted into sleep.
By the time Fu Jingrong returned home, evening had settled over Yellow Garden. He stepped inside, loosening his tie slightly, the fatigue of the workday evident in the subtle tension of his posture.
Before he could ask for her, a servant approached quietly, holding a folded blanket.
"Sir," the servant said softly, "Madam is in the garden. She fell asleep."
