After they finished settling where the checkups would take place, Jingxue lifted a hand in farewell.
Su Wanyan returned the wave without ceremony, a light smile already in place, and turned toward the rows. Her steps carried her straight back to Mo Xingxue—past the staff, past the lingering awkwardness of the earlier shouting, as if the only destination that required urgency was the omega still working under borrowed shade.
Jingxue watched her go. Only when her figure had put a clear stretch of ground between them did he lower his hand.
Then he turned.
The men behind him flinched as if the air itself had shifted temperature. Whatever courage had fueled their earlier outrage had not fully recovered from his silence. Facing him alone, without the cover of a crowd's volume, made more than one set of shoulders draw in. A few pairs of eyes found the grass. Others found each other, searching for a shared script that would not make the next minute worse.
