The attic was silent.
The night was deep.
Shen Yue and Shui Qingmeng talked quietly. If not for the fallen figures scattered across the ground, the two seemed to share an indescribable intimacy.
However, Councilor Cheng did not see it that way. He asked directly, "What are they saying? A secret code?"
He couldn't understand.
Not only him—the majority of people on Mount Tianzhu didn't comprehend the meaning of their words. Despite their mastery of advanced technology, these people, accustomed to digitized emotional analysis, struggled to grasp the vast skies beyond numbers.
Shui Qingmeng faintly furrowed her brows, her gaze as deep as a dream.
After a moment, her lips curled, half-smiling, half not. With a flick of her sleeve, she turned and disappeared.
Truly disappeared.
Her turn seemed to morph into emptiness, her movement merging with the night.
The night grew deeper, and emptiness became omnipresent.
