"Hmm?" Lin Fang blinked. "My father?"
Feng Xiu's sentence had sliced itself in half mid-air, and the silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Lin Fang stared at him, pulse climbing up his throat. "My father? You know my father?"
Feng Xiu shut his eyes for a brief moment, as if bracing himself. When he opened them again, there was resignation there—not reluctance, but the heaviness of someone about to reopen a wound that never closed.
"Actually… yes," he said quietly. "Lin Weiying and I were in the same batch in the Hunter Academy."
Lin Fang's breath caught. "My father… studied at the Hunter Academy? I thought he studied at business school."
"Yeah, he did study at business school too..." Feng Xiu nodded slowly, then reached for his desk drawer. Something metallic clinked, and he pulled out a photo frame wrapped in the soft haze of old memories. He held it for a second, thumb brushing its surface as if debating whether this was a mistake.
