There are many things that Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue do not talk about.
It is not at all something terrible that must be endured for a greater good’s sake.
Spring comes, and Nie Huaisang is seen with his sabre for the first time since— anyone's guess as to when.
His house has been so quiet without the volume of Tang Fan's life filling it, these last days.
Given such a tender gift, how can Seimei not tease him?
With their house's liveliness lapsed to quiet, and the looming summer rain hanging heavy in the air, Tang Fan seizes upon a temptingly rare proposition of opportunity.
Surely in a world so vast there lie yet stones unturned— slippery things smalled for his spindling fingers to unearth.
"Tang Fan," she starts carefully.
Tang Fan has no such concern. "Sui Zhou," is her counter. She dumps their bag at her feet, where its gaped mouth is swiftly fed her belt and chopsticks. "Your poor delicate Qing'er," she complains. "I will find a man and his wife to show me the pity here that you won't."
Sui Zhou's WeChat starts firing off around midday, which does at least immediately pare down the pool of potential suspects.
Tang Fan returns early, only to arrive late.