Soyeon sat across from Liang Jian at the weathered wooden table, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the chipped ceramic bowl in front of her. Steam rose from the congee, but she hadn't touched it. Liang Jian hadn't touched his either.
The silence between them was suffocating.
He cleared his throat. "How is your leg?"
She blinked, as if surprised he had spoken. "Oh." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. "It no longer hurts."
"Hmm."
More silence.
Liang Jian picked up the teapot and poured tea into her cup with careful precision, watching the amber liquid fill the porcelain. His hands were steady now, though they hadn't been steady when he had held her face in her room. They hadn't been steady when he had kissed her.
He set the teapot down with more force than necessary.
"You should eat something," he said. "You lost blood."
"I'm not hungry."
"Su Yan—"
"I said I'm not hungry."
