Fu Jian didn't even lift his head.
"You're not supposed to eat cold things," came Yu Sicong's exasperated voice. "You have a weak body."
Fu Jian sighed. "Why are you here?"
Yu Sicong sat across from him, looking unusually earnest.
"I came to talk. Look—Shuchang's getting married. Even his younger brother's ahead of me."
Fu Jian's eyes flicked up, cold.
"Then maybe you should find someone. Not bother me."
Yu Sicong leaned closer, his voice softening.
"When will you stop hating me? It's been years, Jian."
Fu Jian stared at him silently.
Yu Sicong's voice cracked just a little.
"I don't care about being forgiven instantly. I just want a chance to earn it. Can't we try?"
Fu Jian looked away.
"No. I am busy. Don't disturb me," he said quietly.
Yu Sicong sat frozen for a moment, Fu Jian's words echoing in his ears.
"No. I am busy. Don't disturb me."
He had heard them before—countless times, spoken from his own mouth with that same flat tone, same disinterest.
