The corridors of the Mo residence were quiet, much quieter than usual. Servants whispered instead of speaking, and the candles along the hallways burned low, giving the whole place a tired, hollow look.
Inside his study, Mo Ying sat alone.
The room reeked of alcohol...
Three jars lay empty on the floor, another half-finished one still in his hand. His usually neat desk was messy, scrolls pushed aside, ink spilled, brushes dropped carelessly.
His eyes were red, not from crying but from exhaustion and too much liquor.
He drank again...
The silence was sharp... until the door creaked open.
Soft footsteps entered...
San Na stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Her expression was tight, her voice calm but laced with something sharp.
"So this is what you've become?"
Mo Ying didn't look up. "Get out."
San Na ignored him and walked closer.
"You didn't even attend dinner. You locked yourself here the whole evening. The servants are terrified."
