Meaning of my life. Part three.

Xing Fu, listening intently to Lei, fixed his cold gaze straight ahead. The words spoken from Lei's mouth drifted past his ears, leaving faint traces in his memory. Without changing his expression, Xing Fu was sitting in a chair with his back straight. A thick book lay in his lap. He stroked the dark red binding of the book with one hand, and propped up his chin with the other. His long black cape perfectly fitted his tall and slender body for his age. And a small fur collar at the base of his neck gave him an aristocratic look. From time to time, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair, he slightly nodded his head.

When Lei stopped speaking, Xing Fu looked at him. In his eyes, one could read the deepest discontent. But the lack of any skills to show complex human emotions was alien to him, and therefore he chose a slight discontent concealing further anger.