Conquer the other worlds with abandon, they've fallen in love with me!

The door opened.

The office lighting was [temporarily changed] a bit dimmer than the corridor. The blinds were half-closed, cutting the afternoon sunlight into rows of fine stripes that slanted across the floor, the desk, and Vera's shoulders.

The air smelled of paper and ink, mixed with Vera's usual faint scent of white tea.

The documents on the bookshelf were neatly stacked, and several open files were spread out on the table. A fountain pen sat beside it, its cap off, the ink on the nib forming a small, round black bead.

Vera sat behind her desk, not looking up.

She was wearing a dark gray formal coat, the collar buttoned up perfectly, and her hair was pulled back into a low bun. From Lin Yu's perspective...

All that could be seen was her profile—her jawline was taut, a faint shadow beneath her cheekbone, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. She held a fountain pen in her right hand, writing something on the edge of a document, the nib making a soft scratching sound on the paper, so focused she seemed completely unaware of anyone entering.

But Lin Yu knew she had noticed.

Because her fingers, holding the pen, paused almost imperceptibly the moment the door opened. It was so brief, so fleeting, that an ordinary person wouldn't even notice. But Lin Yu noticed. He stood there, neither rushing forward nor speaking. He simply closed the door gently behind him, then stood quietly on the doormat, waiting.

Click. The sound of the door lock closing was exceptionally clear in the quiet office.

Vera's pen began to move again. She continued writing, her handwriting neat and sharp, each stroke carrying an undeniable certainty. She finished the last few words, put down the pen, picked up the document, gently blew on the ink, and then slowly, unhurriedly, raised her head.

Eyes facing each other.

Vera's eyes were deep brown, appearing particularly profound in the light and shadow cast by the blinds. Her expression was calm, almost indifferent, as if Lin Yu's reappearance neither surprised her nor made her feel the need for any special treatment. She looked at him for two seconds, then closed the document and placed it on top of a stack of documents on the corner of the table.

"I'm back," she said.

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. The tone was as flat as saying, "The weather's nice today," or "The tea's gone cold." She didn't even ask, "Why did you come back?" or "Have you figured it out?" She simply used those two words to lightly confirm a fact—he left, and he came back, nothing more.

Lin Yu did not answer. He knew those two words didn't need a reply.

He took a few steps forward to the chair in front of the desk, but didn't sit down. His fingers rested on the back of the chair, his fingertips tracing the smooth, worn edge of the wooden back. His gaze shifted from Vera's face to the desk—the open files, the uncapped pen, the neatly stacked documents, and the white ceramic mug on the corner of the desk, with a ring of dried coffee stains on its rim.

"The coffee's gone cold," Lin Yu said.

Vera followed his gaze to the cup, then looked up at him again. Her lips twitched slightly—not quite a smile, but more of a meaningful, slightly sarcastic curve.

"You came back just to remind me my coffee's cold?"

Lin Yu didn't respond. He sat down in the chair. The chair was the perfect height, his line of sight level with Vera's. The light and shadow from the blinds fell on his face, fragmenting his features into pieces of light and shadow, making his expression even more unreadable than usual. His hands were folded on his knees, his posture seemingly relaxed, but Vera had known him for too long; she knew that this relaxation was a state that required more vigilance than tension.

Silence spread between the two. It wasn't awkward, not even tense. It was more like a power struggle—both knew each other too well, knowing that whoever spoke first would lose halfway. A thin ray of sunlight pierced through the blinds, falling on the tabletop, dust motes floating slowly in the beam of light like a group of tireless, tiny dancers.

In the end, Vera spoke first.

"Is Lilia alright?" she asked.

Her tone was casual, as if she were asking a trivial acquaintance. But Lin Yu noticed that as she asked the question, her fingers unconsciously moved the pen away from its original position by half an inch.

Lin Yu looked at her, neither avoiding her nor offering an explanation.

"Sleeping," he said, in the same casual tone, without any further information.

Vera nodded, her expression unchanged. She reached for the white ceramic cup, took a sip, and then frowned slightly.

It was indeed cold; the black coffee, now completely cold, had a sharp, bitter taste. She put the cup down, neither pouring it out nor reheating it.

"You made quite a commotion when you left," Vera said, this time with a different tone—not accusation, but more like an emotionless statement. "Everyone in the hallway heard it."

"I know," Lin Yu said.

"So you're back now to take back what you were doing?"

Lin Yu tilted his head slightly, as if he was seriously considering the question.

The light and shadow from the blinds moved an inch across his face, illuminating his left pupil for a fleeting moment, where something indescribable flashed by.

"No," he said, "I came back because we haven't finished talking about this yet."

Vera leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped in front of her, fingertips lightly tapping the back of her hands. She appeared relaxed, but Lin Yu knew that this relaxation was a state that required even more vigilance than tension. The two of them faced each other across the desk, separated by open files, a cold cup of coffee, and the silent, heavy sunlight of the entire afternoon.

A bird chirped once outside the window, then fell silent again.