As dusk settled, Xu Zhuohua returned to the Xincheng Mansion, her steps dappled with the golden light of the setting sun.

The soft thud of the car over the gravel road startled the people in the courtyard. As soon as she stepped out of the car, she saw a slender figure at the end of the bluestone path—Madam Cheng, wrapped in a dark green brocade shawl, looked like a flickering candle in the warm breeze of late spring.

Xu Zhuohua was taken aback by the fact that he looked completely different from when she first met him last year.

At that time, Madam Cheng was laughing and chatting at the banquet, but now her pale face is full of the marks of time. Under her loose skin, you can vaguely see bluish-gray veins. Even the pearl necklace around her neck looks heavy, making her already hunched back bend even more.

Her posture of looking up at the kapok flowers was like that of a child with piety. Rose petals fell on her shoulders, but they made her delicate oval face look even more like a faded silk painting, beautiful but fragile and futile.

Uncle Li, his knuckles white as he gripped the brass cane, looked at the flame-like flowers blooming wildly on the branches, his eyes welling up with tears.

The gloom surrounding the two seemed to solidify, even the strong fragrance of kapok flowers was tainted with bitterness, brewing a silent mourning in the twilight.

The sound of the car engine seemed to disturb the two of them, and they turned around at the same time, but when they saw Xu Zhuohua, their eyes did not show much emotion.

Madam Cheng's withered fingers hovered over the half-open flower bud, her voice weak and choked with phlegm: "Zhuohua is back."

Before she finished speaking, she slowly turned her head, oblivious to the fact that her dark green shawl had slipped off her shoulders. She was focused on the scarlet blossoms on the branches, her empty gaze seemingly piercing through the petals and looking into some unknown void.

Uncle Li's eyes were etched with wrinkles, yet a kind smile lingered. "Young Madam is back," he said, his gaze sweeping over Xu Zhuohua's thin shoulders. "You've been back in Dongzhou for so long, how come you've lost so much weight?"

Xu Zhuohua dared not look Uncle Li in the eye.

Because the one who let those rioters in to set fires was Uncle Li.

Although she doesn't yet know why Uncle Li wants to kill Cheng Muyun, the thought of being the one to die terrifies Xu Zhuohua.

"Yes, Uncle Li."

Cheng Muyun put his arm around Xu Zhuohua's shoulder and said, "Mother, Uncle Li, let's go inside first. Zhuohua has been on the road for a month and is very tired now."

Uncle Li nodded with a smile, while Madam Cheng merely raised her hand.

The two went up to the second floor, and Xu Zhuohua asked, "What's wrong with Mother? Is she still sick?"

Cheng Muyun said, "Today is Wenyun's birthday."

Xu Zhuohua recalled that on this day last year, Madam Cheng had specially organized a ball to see Cheng Wenjun.

I also danced to girl group songs around that time.

Before she knew it, a year had passed; she had no idea how time had slipped away.

This year was truly more exciting than the previous twenty years of her life.

"Cheng Muyun, let's go pay our respects to Wen Yun."

Cheng Muyun pulled Xu Zhuohua's hand and led her into the house. "Where do you go to worship at night? If you really want to go, then go first thing tomorrow morning. You need to rest now."

The carved bronze lamp cast a warm yellow glow on the velvet bed canopy. Before Xu Zhuohua could react, Cheng Muyun pressed her down onto the edge of the bed with an irresistible force.

The man knelt on one knee, his long, slender fingers deftly untying the ribbon on her high heels. When his cool fingertips brushed against her ankle, they sent a shiver down her spine.

The warmth from his palm, a familiar comfort, seeped from my aching feet all the way up to my heart, dispelling the fatigue of a long day's work.

"You must be exhausted." Cheng Muyun lowered his eyes, his eyelashes casting a fan-shaped shadow under his eyes. He pressed the acupoints on the soles of her feet with his fingertips, the pressure just right. His voice was gentle and tender, the kind of tenderness that only they had when they were alone. "Lie down for a while. I'll have someone bring dinner up."

The mattress was so soft it felt like sinking into a cloud. Xu Zhuohua leaned back on the down cushion, and drowsiness washed over her like a tide.

She reached out and stroked Cheng Muyun's fluffy black hair, her fingertips brushing against the protruding neck bone on the back of his neck, her voice slightly husky and charming: "Although I'm tired, the thought of seeing you makes me not tired at all."

As dusk deepened outside the window, the contours of his profile became even more pronounced.

Cheng Muyun suddenly grabbed her wriggling wrist and gently pressed her into the quilt.

The dim light made the turbulent undercurrents in his eyes resemble a deep-sea whirlpool, with an unyielding possessiveness hidden beneath the shimmering waves.

As he leaned down, his tie fell to her chest, and his warm breath brushed against her flushed cheeks: "Go to sleep, be a good girl."

His fingertips caressed the corners of her reddened lips, his voice low and deep like wine coated in honey, "Otherwise—" the last syllable faded into his approaching breath, "I can't guarantee what I might do next."

He raised his hand and gently lifted Xu Zhuohua's legs, causing her to fall onto the mattress. Cheng Muyun pulled back the covers, and by the time Xu Zhuohua realized what was happening, she was already in bed.

When Xu Zhuohua tilted her head back, the diamond studs at the corners of her eyes swayed gently with the movement, like stars falling on her eyelashes.

"I haven't taken my clothes off yet," she chuckled, biting her lower lip, her voice carrying a hint of languid coquettishness, "Sleeping like this is tiring."

Just as she was about to prop herself up, her wrist was gripped by a burning palm.

Cheng Muyun's Adam's apple bobbed as he leaned down. He lifted a stray strand of her hair with his fingertips and tucked it behind her ear. The scent of mint mixed with cedar and his hot breath fell on her: "I'll help you."

Her slender fingers precisely hooked the pearl button on her coat, and when her fingertips inadvertently brushed against her collarbone, a subtle tremor ran through her.

The rustling sound of fabric rubbing together was particularly clear in the quiet room.

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