The living room had grown quieter now that most of the guests had retreated upstairs in a flurry of frantic footsteps and muffled exclamations as they packed. The afternoon light had softened into a warm, golden haze, filtering gently through the tall windows and casting long, peaceful rays across the plush sofas and polished wooden floors.
Scattered gift wrappers and forgotten used cups still dotted the space, but the earlier chaos had settled into a calm, almost serene stillness. A faint, comforting scent of tea and fresh laundry lingered in the air, blending with the subtle floral notes from the plants near the balcony doors.
While everyone else fretted and hurried, Su Wanyan and Mo Xingxue remained deeply seated on the sofa, wrapped in a comfortable silence that felt anything but awkward. On the contrary, it was peaceful—the kind of quiet that wrapped around them like a soft, familiar blanket.
