"Shiru!" Zhiwei beamed, completely oblivious to the sudden drop in temperature, turning to his companion. "Look! Brother Lin is back from the capital! The rumors were true!"
Shiru pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a single, elegant finger.
His eyes, the color of crushed jade, swept over Ji'an.
They took in her slightly disheveled hair, the gray cloak, and the faint, lingering scent of the Spices.
"Indeed," Shiru smiled, a perfectly crafted expression that did not reach his eyes. "I am relieved to see you in one piece, Martial Uncle Lin. The Eastern Wastes are famous for being notoriously harsh. Though it seems you have returned with an aura that is even more... vibrant than before."
Ji'an felt her stomach twist into a hard, unpleasant knot.
There was something wrong with the way Wen Shiru looked at her.
When Wangchen looked at her, it was with an aura of silent devotion.
When Hu Yanlie looked at her, it was with feral, primal hunger.
