( itβs almost imperceptible, the shift in lan wangjiβs otherwise stoic expression. it starts in his brows, a slow rise, a faint crease in-between. then his mouth, a soft exhale as lips gradually part, and lan wangjiβs fingers curl on his thighs, nails digging in. wen ning. senior wei. homeβ¦? both are long dead, and a mix of confusion and mild distress washes over him, a lump he canβt swallow past. )... Wei Ying?
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