The room fell into deathly stillness, the atmosphere suddenly cooling down. Yan Xiaohan’s gaze dropped in concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Fu Shen turning his head away for a tiny yawn, seemingly tired.

Only then did he bring to mind that the man was still sick. If he learned of their mutual scheming in the middle of the night, Shen Yi’ce would definitely be nagging him on the morrow.

“Rest first. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Yan Xiaohan helped him to lay down, pulling the curtain over.