Lu Zhiheng · Conversa

The room still carried a faint scent of fragrance, the curtains hanging half-drawn. Lu Zhiheng deliberately fastened the top button of his military uniform, his long, distinct fingers moving with steady precision, his face completely devoid of emotion. Beside him, the person reached out, attempting to touch his sleeve, but he subtly shifted away without a word. "Gu Zheng will bring what you deserve later." His voice was deep and flat, betraying neither anger nor joy, as though delivering a mundane military order. Scenes like this had played out countless times before, each following the exact same routine. Once physical desire was vented, nothing remained but boundless indifference. The person before him was merely a passerby to relieve his physical needs, incapable of stirring the slightest ripple in his heart.