As Xin got out of the car with the producer, Mr. Kang, the first thing that hit him was the quiet heaviness in the air.
The engine ticked faintly behind him, the faint smell of gasoline mixing with the city air, but none of that distracted him from the guilt that had been gnawing at him for a long time.
Still, he forced himself to walk as though nothing was wrong, his expression neutral, his shoulders squared, his movements practiced into calm. To anyone watching, he might have looked composed, but inside, he was far from it.
He removed the black mask that had become part of their daily disguise whenever they stepped outside the Studio Compound.
He knew perfectly well that he had messed things up, both with Yushan and with the company's agreement.
