Jian continued to dig another spot for his morning duties when he noticed the man still lingering behind him.
He glared back at him.
The Farian stood silently, silver eyes still watching.
Jian narrowed his eyes at him. "You're seriously messed up, you know that?" he muttered under his breath, shooting a glare out the window. "Pooping is a private thing. Not something you just—stand around and gawk at."
His voice was laced with irritation, but also undeniable discomfort.
Xing Yu didn't respond. Not a word. He simply turned away and resumed his silent vigil beside the car, head tilted as if scanning the horizon. Still, his posture seemed heavier somehow. Stiffer.
He didn't argue. He didn't explain.
Instead, he stayed still—like a statue standing watch.
A small rustle came from the backseat.
The little boy sat up with a yawn, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His hair stuck up in all directions and his blanket had tangled around his legs.
