For a long time, no one spoke in the room.
Tie Xin had gone back to rest as well.
Inside and outside the bedroom, all was silent, save for the occasional gust of wind outside the window.
After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, Feng Wuya finally sat up and gazed at the slender figure by the window.
"I owe her."
"What does it have to do with you?"
"A son ought to repay the debts of his mother; it's only natural," Feng Wuya leaned against the bedside, his gaze falling into an unnamed corner.
"Although Long Xiyue wasn't killed by my mother, she's still inextricably linked to her. In this lifetime, both my mother and I will forever be indebted to her, unable to ever clear our debt."
The person by the bed turned around, staring at his face, which remained distinct even in the dark night, "What do you plan to do?"
"I haven't figured it out yet, but I ought to do something for her."
Feng Wuya wasn't a pessimist, nor was he the type to wallow in self-pity.