She carried the dishes to the back and began to clean up the kitchen for the night.
Her steps were a little slower now, her movements a little more thoughtful.
Steam curled from the tap as she rinsed the bowl, the sound of running water steady, but her mind had wandered far beyond it.
Not just about Lu Yanchen and his surprising gentleness. Not just his words or his hand wrapped warmly around hers.
But the way he looked at her, like she wasn't strange for choosing this life, or pitiful for running a noodle shop, or foolish for working twelve-hour a day in silence.
No. He had looked at her like she was something remarkable.
She set the bowl down carefully and dried her hands.
By the time she changed into her sleepwear, the moon had risen fully and casted a silver veil across the quiet room.
Her small apartment above the shop was still and cool, the fan humming low in the corner.
