The muffled echo of footsteps in the hallway made Ji Yuzhe straighten his posture. He'd heard those footsteps a thousand times before. Knew the rhythm. Knew who was coming. He stood rigid outside Feng Suyin's apartment, blind eyes fixed on nothing, heart hammering so hard he felt it in his throat. Uncle Jia shifted beside him. The rustle of his suit. A small sound. But it told Ji Yuzhe everything—Uncle Jia was nervous too.
"Young Master, are you certain about this?" The whisper barely carried.
Ji Yuzhe's fingers tightened around his cane. The wood bit into his palm.
"I've never been more certain of anything."
