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... The two of them were a huge contrast to each other. Han Xin exuded ethereal grace and Han Zhan bore the rugged lines of a warrior. His eyes were sharp and his hands calloused from wielding a sword.

"More?" Han Zhan asked as he poured out the fragrant brew, steam curling upward like incense. The porcelain cups clinked, and Han Zhan's gaze lingered on the delicate patterns.

"Thanks," he replied his voice low.

"We need more osmanthus cakes," said Han Zhan having realised tha ...

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