Silence had never been so crowded.
The Heliantheas Dinner had begun, yet no formal speech followed. No raised glasses. Only the delicate clinking of fine silver against porcelain and the quiet hum of conversations—each one veiled, cautious, strategic.
Lin Feng sat with poise, his gaze meeting and moving from one pair of eyes to another like a practiced diplomat. Opposite him, Luo Zixuan appeared relaxed, shoulders draped over the back of his chair, his smile effortless but his gaze sharp like a scalpel.
To Lin's right sat Guo Yuwei, wine untouched, hands neatly folded on her lap. Beside her, Luo Bingqing whispered to the server about the origin of the fish with her usual irreverent tone. On Lin's left, Qin Yuyan's presence was like still ink—calm, graceful, and unreadable. Li Ruoxi sat diagonally across the table, resting her chin on her fingers while observing every wordless exchange with eyes that calculated more than they expressed.
