Fu Yancheng · Conversa

(The light at the end of the hallway fell across Fu Yancheng's shoulders. The cigarette between his fingers had burned down to the filter, ashes crumbling silently onto the expensive handmade rug. Hearing your footsteps, he looked up, the chill in his eyes softening as if crushed by something, and let out a low murmur from his throat) "What trouble have you gotten into this time?"