She sighed and leaned back against her pillows, eyes roving over Jiang Yue's face. "When that scoundrel grandson of mine gets here, I'm going to give him a good scolding. Look at you—thinner than the last time you visited. Is he not feeding you properly? Honestly…"
"Hmph." The old woman waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not talking about your body, girl. I mean your aura."
Jiang Yue blinked.
Old Madam Luo's eyes fixed on her, sharp beneath the tired folds. "You look like you've been carrying ghosts."
The words landed with uncanny precision.
A silence bloomed in the room. Not awkward, not even tense—but full. A silence that pressed gently against her chest and stayed.
She thought she'd been hiding it well—the grief, the guilt, the gnawing weight that had taken up permanent residence behind her ribs since that night. Since Jiang Xiu. Since everything changed.
Her fingers curled slightly in her lap.
