Ning Xuan sent a holographic video call to Ying Yaoshi from the sofa in the front hall. Two or three minutes later, the call connected, and Ying Yaoshi's figure materialized before her.
"Lord Contract Master, you're calling me first? What a pleasant surprise," Ying Yaoshi said, a look of astonishment on his face.
Ying Yaoshi sat ramrod straight within the holographic projection, his tall, slender frame as sharp and imposing as a drawn sword. He wore a finely tailored, midnight-blue, high-collared uniform. Dark patterns, embroidered with silver thread, shimmered faintly under the light. It was clearly a piece he had carefully selected from his spare formal attire, though the haste with which he'd changed was betrayed by a crease at the collar that hadn't been fully smoothed out.
