Ji'an sat on the opposite bench, her legs crossed, aggressively separating the stems of the Iron-Threaded Saffron.
She was hyper-focused on the task, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Xiao Yichen sat in the center of the U-shaped bench, perfectly positioned to observe her.
He wore a dark crimson silk robe today, the collar dipping low enough to reveal the smooth, pale expanse of his chest.
His long legs were stretched out, one arm resting lazily on the back of the velvet cushions behind Ji'an. He watched Ji'an's hands move about.
He watched the way her dark hair, haphazardly tied up, allowed a few damp strands to stick to the nape of her neck.
He let the silence stretch until it became heavy, thick, and almost unbearable.
"You are going to snap the stems if you grip them with such hostility, Royal Uncle," Yichen purred, his voice a low, melodic vibration that easily cut through the sound of the rain.
