Staring out into the flower garden from the balcony of his manor, Yan Wuhen let his gaze drift upward, taking in the scattered stars across the clear night sky.
The wind stirred his hair. His breathing was calm. A smoke pipe rested between his lips.
Yet his brow was faintly creased with displeasure and impatience.
With a flick of his wrist, the spirit mate chain materialized, coiling faintly around his skin.
"Your pet isn't back yet?" a familiar voice drawled behind him, mockery lacing every word.
Wuhen scoffed and turned. Qinghe stepped forward to stand beside him, her sharp red gold fox eyes flicking toward the chain.
"Where do you think he is?" she continued. "Aren't you tempted to go search for him? And Leave bodies in your wake?"
Wuhen pulled the pipe from his lips, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before glancing at her.
"Should I?"
Qinghe rolled her eyes. "You know exactly where he is."
