The congee grew cold in the silent library. The single oil lamp cast long, dancing shadows that made the rows of ancient texts seem like silent, judgmental spectators. Li Xun did not look at the food. He did not look at Yingluo. He looked at the space between them, a chasm that had widened from a simple strategic alliance into something far more complex and terrifying.
"A new life," he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He finally lifted his gaze, his golden eyes locking onto hers. They were not the eyes of a man impressed; they were the eyes of a celestial dragon assessing a rival force of nature. "You spirited a man out from under the nose of the Imperial Guard, from a palace with more spies than rats, and you gave him a 'new life.' Do you take me for a fool?"
