The afternoon study was dimly lit; the thick blackout curtains were only half-drawn.
Inside, a youth dressed in black sits on the floor, a pen held in his slender fingertips. Upon his knees, a drawing board is placed, with papers densely filled with writing.
His strokes are firm and steady, the writing forceful enough to show through the paper.
Eyes cast down, his thick, long lashes hide all emotions in his tea-colored pupils. When one sheet of paper on the drawing board is filled, he takes another from the side and covers it.
Going around in cycles without a hint of impatience in his expression.
Cui Yu and Mi Xiao peek through the crack of the door, and Mi Xiao, whose eyesight is better than Cui Yu's, after watching for a while, quietly pulls her aside and whispers, "Auntie, cousin seems to still be working on that problem."
