The voice that cut through the noise did not come from the crowd. It came from behind them.
"Is that what you think?"
The tone was calm, yet firm enough to silence the laughter that still lingered in the air.
The crowd shifted immediately as heads turned, and a path slowly opened when someone stepped forward.
Han Fuji.
Behind him stood a carriage loaded with several bags of seeds, the rough fabric tied securely, showing that he had just returned from work. Dust clung lightly to the wheels, yet no one paid attention to that.
All attention was on him.
There was a faint smile on his face, but it was not warm. There was something sharp beneath it, something that made the air feel heavier.
He walked forward at an unhurried pace and stopped directly in front of Fu Fong, placing himself between him and Bai Ming without looking back.
His back faced her, steady and deliberate.
"Is that truly what you believe?" he asked again.
Fu Fong's expression darkened at once.
