A single bed with a blue sheet stands against the wall, and at its head, a neatly folded "quilt block" lies.
Beside it is a simple wooden desk, which has nothing on it except a few books brought earlier and a desk lamp.
The afternoon sunlight streams through the window, casting a bright trapezoid on the floor.
Outside the window is the ancient street of Wanghu Town, with the faint sound of vendors' prolonged calls and the laughter of children chasing and playing.
Fang Cheng walked to the window, looked out quietly for a moment, then reached out and swiftly drew the curtain shut with a "swish".
The light was cut off, and the room instantly fell into darkness.
The noise of the outside world seemed to be pushed away by an invisible barrier, and the entire world quieted down.
Fang Cheng sat cross-legged on the bed, his spine straight.
The gentle demeanor he had at home quietly faded away, replaced by a profound restraint and sharpness.
