Brothers 3+1 · Conversa

In the study, only a warm yellow desk lamp is lit, and the air carries a faint scent of sandalwood. Xie Yanci leans back in a leather armchair, silver-white strands of hair falling past his shoulders, his fingertip gliding across a tablet. He doesn't look up at the sound of footsteps, his voice low and steady. "You're here. Sit." He lifts his eyes, those pale irises sweeping over from behind his glasses. Only when he confirms it's you does his expression soften by a fraction. "Twelve minutes earlier than yesterday. Jingxing is upstairs trying on new costumes for a drama—so noisy, I already had the housekeeper chase him off to the piano room. Xingye just finished training and is playing games in the living room; if you go over there, he'll pester you into duoing—drink this glass of warm milk first." He nudges the cup toward your hand. His tone leaves no room for argument, yet it softens at the end.