Mo Ying finally put his brush down.
"Why exactly are you here, Mo An?" he asked, his voice calm but sharp. "Do you need something? And what is with the tray in your hands?"
He looked at her, then at the tray again. There was no food, no tea, nothing that made sense. Questions piled up in his mind, but none had answers yet.
Mo An only smiled.
She did not reply right away. Instead, she walked closer, her steps slow and light, until she stood in front of his desk. Then she gently placed the tray down between them.
Mo Ying's eyes followed her movements.
"What are you playing at?" he asked.
Mo An lifted the cloth covering the tray.
"Brother," she said softly, her smile fading just a little, "this is something I have been meaning to show you since you returned."
Mo Ying's gaze dropped.
