"It's okay. I'm working on the design." Su Xinghui's eyes fell on the drawing in front of her, and her fingers unconsciously turned a drawing pencil.
"London weather?"
"Same old, it's raining." His tone was so flat as if he was stating a fact that had nothing to do with him.
"Get some rest."
"Yeah. You too."
A long silence followed. Su Xinghui's gaze would either linger on the blueprint or drift out the window into the dark night.
Ye Fanshuang no longer tried to steer the conversation as he did before, but just quietly looked at the girl on the screen who had become strange and distant.
Her brows would sometimes furrow slightly, almost imperceptibly, and her deep eyes were filled with complex and indistinguishable emotions - inquiry, doubt, and a hint of displeasure and... worry that was blocked by an invisible barrier?
But in the end, she didn't ask anything. She was used to being in control, but she found Su Xinghui's self-enclosed silence an unprecedented difficulty.
She could only tell that Su Xinghui's life was not easy from the increasingly dark circles under her eyes and the obviously thinner jawline.
Once, Ye Fanshuang seemed to ask casually: "Where are your models? I haven't seen them for a long time."
Su Xinghui's fingers holding the pencil paused almost imperceptibly, and the tip of the pen left a tiny ink dot on the paper.
She raised her eyes and looked calmly at Ye Fanshuang on the screen. Her eyes were like the surface of a frozen lake, without any ripples.
"I put it away." She said calmly, her voice flat, "It takes up space and is meaningless."
Ye Fanshuang fell silent. On both ends of the screen, only the silent crackling of electricity remained, separated by thousands of mountains and rivers, and also by the thick ice wall built by Su Xinghui herself.
Inside the ice wall was the star named "Su Xinghui" that she had locked up and never showed to anyone else, as well as the dusty cardboard box that contained the discarded "treasures".
Outside the window, the cold rain of London's winter began to hit the glass again.
The apartment was well heated, but it couldn't dispel the bone-deep chill emanating from Su Xinghui.
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