Chapter 52 "Now, let's go home together."...

He glanced furtively at the person next to him.

Below his prominent Adam's apple, a light gray striped tie was tied meticulously and neatly.

Su Cheng couldn't help but ask, "Do I have to dress this formally to go home?"

For her, home is a place where she can completely let her guard down.

Back in her small apartment, she would immediately kick off her leather shoes, tear off her bra, change into a worn-out old T-shirt, and walk barefoot on the wooden floor.

If we go back to my parents' house, my mother will always set out the Hello Kitty slippers that I've worn since I was a child, and the fragrant bear pajamas will be folded on the bed. My father will cut up a plate full of my favorite strawberries and put it where I can easily reach them.

No matter which home she was in, she felt comfortable and at ease.

As she pondered this, she suddenly realized that Jiang Muzhou might be different. After all, he was always picked up and dropped off at school in a Maybach. Perhaps his "home" was not quite the same as the one she was familiar with.

Scenes from a TV drama conjure up images of a wealthy family: under crystal chandeliers, everyone is dressed in suits, their hair flowing gracefully, raising their glasses elegantly beside a champagne tower, chatting about potential stocks on the Science and Technology Innovation Board, discussing news of a certain country's president being stopped on the streets of another country, and inquiring about who got what results.

As for Jiang Muzhou, a prodigy like him, with outstanding looks and excellent grades, he was probably always the center of attention at family banquets, constantly praised by his elders.

Su Cheng imagined Jiang Muzhou navigating the situation with ease and confidence, but then she heard someone beside her whisper, "That's not my home."

...

It has been five years since Jiang Muzhou left that place.

That villa area on the western hillside is one of the most expensive in Linhai City, facing the sea and boasting a beautiful environment.

But to him, that mansion was nothing more than a glittering cage, and he was confined to the annex, like a forgotten decoration.

His daily care is provided by his nanny, Zhang Ma. His father, Jiang Jianguo, occasionally makes an appearance, while his mother, Cheng Wanyue, is rarely seen.

In my memory, I only saw my mother a handful of times, and she always had her brows tightly furrowed, as if she were looking at something repulsive.

The only person who made him feel the warmth of family was Cheng Muye.

The person who always ruffled his hair and said "Call me brother" would appear in the annex every week, pulling out all sorts of strange gadgets from his bag like a magician: a Japanese-made four-wheel drive car, a Transformer brought back from Hong Kong, and a magical black box that would display the images of his parents.

Later, Cheng Muye went to a boarding international school, and the two brothers had fewer opportunities to meet.

At that time, Jiang Muzhou naively thought that all children were like him, rarely seeing their parents and unable to step into the main building where their parents lived.

It wasn't until he started elementary school and interacted with other children his age that he realized things weren't like that.

At first, his classmates envied him. He had the latest sneakers, a limited edition backpack, and an endless amount of pocket money. Every day, he was driven to and from school in a luxury car.

Gradually, he noticed that his classmates would often talk about their parents playing games with them, telling them stories, and going to amusement parks. He asked in confusion, "Do you see your parents often?"

As soon as he said this, his classmates looked at him with strange eyes, as if he were an oddball.

Someone else muttered, "Your parents never come to see you, they definitely don't love you."

After returning home, he asked Zhang Ma, "What is love?"

Zhang Ma tried her best to answer him in simple and easy-to-understand language, "Love is when you're happy to see that person, and when you can't see them, you miss them and always want to be by their side."

He thought of his mother.

Perhaps it was because of their blood ties, but even though they only saw each other a few times a year, his eyes would always involuntarily follow his mother whenever he saw her. When he couldn't see her, he felt like something was missing from his heart.

So this bittersweet feeling is love.

So one evening, he slipped into the main building when Zhang Ma wasn't looking.

My mother is arranging flowers; her slender figure looks especially gentle in the setting sun.

He couldn't help but rush over and hug his mother, whom he hadn't seen in a long time, pressing his warm face against her cool silk cheongsam.

But his mother did not respond gently as he had expected. Instead, she scolded Zhang Ma for not keeping an eye on him and letting him run to the main building.

The sudden reprimand frightened him so much that he burst into tears, his childish cries particularly jarring in the empty hall.

The harder he cried, the more his mother frowned, while his father just stood by, head down, saying nothing.

"Mom, I love you." He sobbed as he reached for his mother's hand. "I just want to hug you..."

His mother pried his fingers off and said coldly, "True love should not become a burden to others."

At that time, he couldn't understand why his parents treated him this way, but his mother's words were deeply imprinted in his memory.

...

The traffic light changed from yellow to red.

Jiang Muzhou stepped on the brakes and brought the car to a steady stop in front of the zebra crossing.

His hand rested casually on the gear shift lever, his gaze fixed on the pedestrians crossing the street.

A young couple each held one of their child's hands, and the three of them strolled leisurely. The little boy had an innocent smile on his face and was holding a bulging Piggy Hero balloon in his hand, which swayed gently in the autumn breeze.

The year he filled out his college application, he filled in all the options for universities outside his hometown, wishing he could be as far away from home as possible.

He thought he would never set foot in this city again, but unexpectedly, he found someone here who cared about him.

His parents have never contacted him over the years; only Cheng Muye sends greetings during holidays.

After graduation, he returned to Linhai, but deliberately avoided any occasions where he might run into his family.

It wasn't until Cheng Muye discovered him in a live stream that he said his parents talked about him every day, and that he should come back for a meal out of pity for their old age.

Having experienced so many disappointments, he thought he had long since stopped caring.

Before going to the appointment, he changed into three different suits in front of the mirror and made a point of wearing those glasses that made him look more composed.

How ridiculous! He clearly hates that family, yet he still wants to play the "good son" they expect.

As soon as I pushed open the restaurant door, I saw a strange girl sitting next to the head of the table.

His mother rarely smiled at him, but it was to introduce him to the daughter of a certain conglomerate.

Years of pent-up disappointment finally broke through the dam.

Before the appetizers were even served, he grabbed his car keys and left.

The chill of early autumn seeped in through the cracks in the car window, traveling through his limbs and wrapping itself around his heart.

Suddenly, a warm sensation covered the back of his hand.

Jiang Muzhou turned his head and looked down at the person he hadn't seen for several days.

His hand, as white as porcelain, was resting on the back of his large hand, the warmth of his fingertips seeping through his skin.

"Now, let's go home together." Su Cheng's lips curled up slightly, her amber eyes shimmering with a bright and warm light.

Her fingers gently closed, the warmth of her palm flowing over him without reservation. "Yuanbao is waiting for you at home."

A warm current spread from their skin, flowing to Jiang Muzhou's cold fingertips and into his empty heart.

The fatigue and loneliness that had accumulated throughout the afternoon suddenly found a place to settle down, like a drifting ship finally reaching the shore.

A smile blooms like a flower, and the glacier melts away.

My heart felt like it had missed a step and was about to fall into an endless abyss, but was caught by a soft cloud.

A thin mist rose from his deep, dark eyes.

My eyes felt hot, and my vision became blurry.

So this is what it feels like to come home.

It is not a cold and oppressive cage, but a warm and vibrant harbor.

It was just a rented apartment, but because her light was on next door, it became a home.

His prominent Adam's apple bobbed up and down, suppressing a bitter sob in his throat.

The green light came on in the distance, but he was still greedily absorbing the warmth from her, unwilling to leave.

Only when a horn sounded from behind, urging him on, did he chuckle and ask in a drawn-out tone, "Have you held onto it enough?"

Jiang Muzhou's voice was indifferent, and his deliberately slowed languor seemed to be concealing something.

Su Cheng snapped out of her daze, recoiled as if electrocuted, and belatedly felt her cheeks burning.

She couldn't explain why, but when she heard the unintentional hint of melancholy in Jiang Muzhou's words, her body reacted before she could think.

Although she didn't know exactly what had happened, seeing the moment his eyes dimmed when he mentioned his family, her heart felt like it had been pricked by a needle, a subtle, stinging pain rising within her.

It turns out that Jiang Muzhou, whom everyone looked up to and who was envied by everyone, also had a vulnerability that no one knew about.

Seeing that he could still speak in such a teasing tone, it's probably because he was thinking about how Yuanbao wags its tail at home, and his mood has improved quite a bit.

Su Cheng secretly breathed a sigh of relief and decided to turn the page on that heavy topic and say something to cheer him up.

“I didn’t expect you to wear glasses…” She paused, her gaze falling on the frames on his nose, “They look quite good.”

Jiang Muzhou didn't speak, but simply curled the corners of his lips slightly.

It turns out she likes wearing glasses.

He recalled an internet meme he had come across before: "With glasses on, even an earthy guy becomes a hottie."

At the time, I thought it was nonsense, but now it seems to make some sense.

"You've become nearsighted? Why are you suddenly wearing glasses?"

Su Cheng recalled her childhood experiences: when she couldn't sleep at night and didn't have a phone to play with, she would hide under the covers and read paper novels by flashlight.

At first, she didn't think much of it and enjoyed it immensely.

Over time, her vision became increasingly blurry, and by the time she was in second grade, she already had 300 degrees of myopia.

“Non-glasses.” Jiang Muzhou casually raised his right hand, his slender middle finger gently pushing up the bridge of his silver-rimmed glasses. “Doesn’t this make me look more scholarly?”

Su Cheng's gaze was drawn to that hand, with its distinct knuckles, clean and slender shape, and faint blue veins visible beneath the skin, giving it a calm and ascetic beauty.

She nodded. "Indeed."

Wearing glasses is an art.

My heart felt like it had been hit by something, and then it started pounding wildly.

She pulled on the seatbelt, trying to use the taut strap to calm her wildly beating heart, afraid that the sound of her heartbeat would be too loud for the people next to her to hear.

But his warmth still seemed to linger on the seatbelt.

Recalling his breath so close to hers when he leaned in, her ears burned uncontrollably again.

She let go of his hand, trying to change the subject, "You people who don't need glasses are really ungrateful, you even wear glasses to look cool."

Recalling how she used to wear thick-rimmed glasses, she couldn't help but add, "Back then, I really wanted to take my glasses off."

Jiang Muzhou's pupils contracted slightly.

He grasped at the extremely faint possibility that flashed through his mind and asked in disbelief, "Have you always been nearsighted?"