Gu Zhixing lowered his eyes to look at the pale white hand, his gaze slightly darkening, as if he were thinking about something.
"Master, we have arrived at the manor."
Xinghui's voice was like a sharp sword cleaving through the stagnant air.
Gu Zhixing lifted the carriage curtain as if granted a pardon, and sunlight poured in like flowing water, casting a light golden halo on his profile, but it couldn't penetrate his deep eyes.
"I'm going to be investigating backlog cases at the Dali Temple soon," he said casually as he got out of the car, changing the subject. "I might be home late."
As Shen Jintang watched his figure disappear into the vermilion gate, she suddenly felt a bit of a chill in the early summer sun.
For the next few days, the atmosphere at the Princess's residence was icy and stagnant.
Gu Zhixing indeed started leaving early and returning late, just as he had said.
Sometimes, when Shen Jintang woke up in the middle of the night, she would hear the rustling sound of pages turning coming from the study next door; sometimes, before dawn, she could see his figure leaving the mansion covered in morning dew through the window.
I remember he used to hate dealing with official business, always saying that the paperwork gave him a headache. Back then, she often had to supervise him before he would sit still for a full hour. Now, however, with no one to supervise him, he works at his desk all night long.
The only thing that remained unchanged was that Gu Zhixing would still smile gently when he met her and straighten her crooked hairpins, but Shen Jintang could tell that Gu Zhixing was unhappy.
But she had no idea what he had been busy with lately, because he was unwilling to tell her anything.
She suddenly missed the carefree and shameless Gu Zhixing from before.
But Gu Zhixing, like the fallen flowers of last night, seems to be gone forever.
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