The next day.
Fong Yan sat up, lifted the blanket, glanced down at the little fellow who was saluting the morning sun, then pressed the blanket back down, his face dark.
Fong Yan sat stiffly for half a minute, then got up and went into the bathroom.
The sound of rushing water echoed.
The man stood under the shower, letting the water flow past him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the communicator in the bathroom, and felt a stir within him for some unknown reason.
How long had it been since he felt this way?
Fong Yan looked away.
What nonsense was he thinking about?
-
Chuzheng went downstairs, and Fong Yan was already seated in front of the pile of Lego in the living room.
Fong Yan's hair was still damp, and water droplets dripped from the tips onto his shoulders, soaking a spot.
Chuzheng took a towel back and placed it on Fong Yan's head.
Fong Yan turned his head.
"Dry your hair."
