Wearing a sweater was not that curious, but the thing that made Song Qingchun raise her brow was the fact that the zipper was pulled to its top, revealing only his two deep eyes.

Song Qingchun stared at Su Zhinian for a long time before she came to and greeted him in a hurry. "Mr. Su."

Su Zhinian did not respond and focused closely on her eyes. This lasted for quite some time before he turned to enter his bedroom and slammed the door close.

Song Qingchun, who was used to Su Zhinian treating her like air, shrugged and went downstairs without fixating on it.

Su Zhinian leaned on the opposite end of the door and raised his hand slowly as Song Qingchun's footsteps retreated downstairs.

The pen he held in his hand was crushed from excessive force. The metallic parts had pierced into his skin, dying his palm red.

Su Zhinian had been hiding at home the whole day due to the palm print he got from mind-controlling Tang Nuan.

When Song Qingchun returned, he had been drawing up designs in his study. Perhaps it had not reached the time she normally arrived, so he was particularly aware of her presence.

Unlike usual, she was curiously quiet. She did not mumble to herself like she normally did when she was working; there wasn't even the sound of cleaning or cooking.

He focused on her for a while before returning to his designs. However, he only started putting down a few strokes when he heard the sound of her sobbing.

Initially, it was very soft, so much so that he thought he had misheard it. He stopped drawing to concentrate, and when he did, the sobbing increased to full-on wailing like she was in the process of mourning.

He left his study with the pen in his grasp without giving it much thought. When he stopped before her bedroom room, he heard her mention the words "Brother Yinan" through the tears, and he stopped like he was hitting against a brick wall.

At the time, he felt immensely dumb. Who else could have made her cry with such anguish other than the man by the name of Qin Yinan?

He should be angry at him or at her, but as the sound of her crying drifted into his ears through the partition of the door, he only felt a dull pain forming at the bottom of his heart.

She did not cry for long, but for him, it lasted as long as a century.

Many times, he almost lost control of himself and wanted to rush in to give her a hug, to console her, but he reminded himself of his role and lack of qualification. He could only stand there quietly and listen to her crying as the strength of his entire body congregated at his fists.

Su Zhinian pulled the metallic tip of the pen out from his palm and the blood gushed out even more. He grabbed at the nearby napkin and pressed down hard on the wound to stem the blood flow. He could feel the pain course through every vein of his body, but that was incomparable to the pain he felt at the bottom of his heart.

After finishing making dinner, Song Qingchun knocked on Su Zhinian's bedroom door and said, "Mr. Su, the dinner is ready."

After some time, Su Zhinian's levelled voice came from within. "Bring it upstairs."

Song Qingchun replied with a simple "oh" before returning downstairs to get a tray and taking the dinner up.

The lights in Su Zhinian's bedroom were not on, and the first thing Song Qingchun did as she stepped in was to reach for the light switch. Before she could do so, Su Zhinian's cold voice seemed to appear from a dark corner of the room. "Keep the lights off."

Song Qingchun retracted her arm and utilized the weak light that streamed in from the corridor to search for his table and placed the dinner on it.