The late spring sunlight streamed through the studio’s skylight, falling on the parasol wood easel that Lin Yan and Su Wan had assembled together. During this period, Lin Yan stayed here almost three nights a week—Song Xiaoran never checked up on him, and when he occasionally missed Le Le’s kindergarten activities, he could always brush it off with "urgent project matters." No one suspected, no one exposed this guilty secret. Behind the calm facade, this f*******n relationship had fostered deeper and deeper ties.
Su Wan had become completely dependent on him. She would simmer his favorite soup in advance, leave a light on for him when he worked late, and even partitioned a small rest area in the corner of the studio—spread with the gray blanket he liked, and topped with his usual pillow.
