Chapter 42 Where else can we find a little evidence of her existence?
The car drove away from the clinic and merged into the crowded traffic.
Zhao Yang secretly glanced at the person next to him in the rearview mirror.
Just now in the clinic, Zhao Yang almost couldn't help but punch him.
What does "she is always by my side" mean? That's an illusion! It's a disease! If this continues, I will be completely ruined.
The car turned an intersection and Feng Mingzhou suddenly opened his eyes and looked at the street scene passing by quickly outside the window.
"Go to Sunshine Orphanage." The driver subconsciously stepped on the brakes and glanced at Zhao Yang in the rearview mirror.
Zhao Yang didn't say anything, but just waved his hand tiredly, signaling the driver to do as he was told.
The orphanage is quite old, the red brick walls are covered with vines, and the slide in the playground has mottled paint.
Zhao Yang has accompanied Feng Mingzhou here several times.
Every time, he wandered around the orphanage like a wandering ghost.
The car stopped outside the door.
Feng Mingzhou opened the car door and walked down.
Zhao Yang followed him a few steps behind, lit a cigarette, leaned against the car door, and did not get in.
Feng Mingzhou walked slowly, making a rustling sound as he stepped on the path covered with fallen leaves.
He walked to the paint-chipped swing, stopped, reached out his hand, and gently brushed the cold iron chain with his fingertips.
There seemed to be still some girl's bell-like laughter lingering on it.
He walked to the window of another classroom.
The window glass was a little dirty, so he raised his hand to wipe it and looked inside.
It was empty inside, with only a few dusty old tables and chairs.
He seemed to want to see through this window the little girl with pigtails sitting by the window, holding her chin long, long ago.
He stood under an old locust tree for a long time.
The trunk is rough, with many crooked names and patterns carved on it.
Feng Mingzhou stretched out his hand and slowly rubbed the rough bark with his fingertips.
His profile was dim and bright in the shadows of the trees, and his expression was focused to the point of paranoia, as if he was having a secret conversation with the past that only he knew about.
Zhao Yang looked at his lonely figure from afar. The cigarette butt burned out between his fingers, and the heat made him pull his hand back suddenly.
He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it with his foot, feeling upset.
Feng Mingzhou walked around the small buildings of the orphanage, round and round.
Finally, he stopped in front of a wall covered with graffiti. The wall was peeling a little, revealing the red bricks inside. He squatted down in an inconspicuous corner.
There, a very crude little sun was drawn with chalk, and next to it were two equally crooked little people, holding hands.
It was probably drawn by a child and has become blurry now.
Feng Mingzhou stretched out his hand and touched the faded little sun with his fingertips very gently, his movements very cautiously.
He just squatted there, motionless, his back slightly hunched, his whole body curled up into a ball, wrapped in great silence and sorrow.
The setting sun stretched his shadow very long, casting it on the mottled wall.
Zhao Yang put out his second cigarette, walked over, and said in a low voice: "Mingzhou, it's getting dark, we should go back."
Feng Mingzhou did not stand up immediately. He stayed in front of the graffiti for a few seconds before slowly standing up.
He turned around, his face expressionless, but his eyes were filled with a thick fog that could not be dispelled.
He didn't look at Zhao Yang and walked straight towards the car.
/
Return to Feng Mingzhou’s suburban villa.
The driver opened the car door and Feng Mingzhou bent down to get out of the car. His movements were a little slow and he looked very tired.
He didn't say anything, and his tall but overly thin figure quickly disappeared behind the heavy carved wooden door.
Zhao Yang followed him out of the car.
The old butler had already been waiting respectfully at the door.
Zhao Yang handed over the small white medicine bottle in his hand.
"This is the medicine that Doctor Chen prescribed. Keep it."
The old butler took the medicine bottle respectfully and looked in the direction where Feng Mingzhou disappeared, with an expression of worry that he could not hide. He hesitated for a moment and whispered to Zhao Yang, "Mr. Zhao, why don't you stay and have dinner with us? He is alone..."
The words were not finished, but the meaning was clear.
Zhao Yang felt bad.
Feng Mingzhou, who was so powerful that the whole city would tremble if he stomped his feet, was now seen by his own housekeeper as a "poor man" who needed someone to accompany him for meals.
Who would believe this if I said it out loud?
He nodded. "Okay."
The restaurant was large and somewhat empty, with a long dining table covered with a clean white tablecloth.
The dishes have been served, and they are delicious, but they are deserted.
Feng Mingzhou sat in the main seat and hardly touched the food in front of him.
Zhao Yang didn't have much appetite, so he just sat there.
Suddenly, Feng Mingzhou raised his head, his eyes swept across the dining table, and finally stopped at the empty seat to his right.
A cold breath instantly emanated from him, and the temperature in the entire restaurant seemed to drop by several degrees.
"Where is Manman's position?"
The old butler's back tensed instantly, cold sweat oozed from his forehead. He lowered his head quickly and said in fear and trepidation, "It's...it's the new servant who doesn't know the rules. I...I'll go and arrange it right away! Sir, calm down, I'll go right away!
Zhao Yang picked up the water glass on the table, took a big sip of ice water, and suppressed the heavy sigh in his heart.
well……
In the huge restaurant, there were only him and Feng Mingzhou, and that chair that was always empty.
/
Before Zhao Yang left, he looked at the old housekeeper's worried eyes and said in a deep voice, "Take good care of the medicine and don't let him take it carelessly. If there is anything wrong, call me immediately, within 24 hours."
The housekeeper nodded vigorously: "Don't worry, Mr. Zhao, I will definitely take good care of you."
Zhao Yang sighed, turned and left.
The villa was eerily quiet.
The bedroom door was pushed open.
The room was large and luxuriously furnished.
Feng Mingzhou walked to the bedside and did not turn on the main light, leaving only a dim bedside lamp on.
The light fell softly on the bedside table, where a well-thumbed book lay.
He picked up the book, turned to the page with the bookmark, and began to read in a low and hoarse voice.
The sound is very soft.
This was Gu Manman's favorite poetry collection when he was alive. Those gentle and affectionate sentences, when they came out of his mouth at this moment, were filled with broken sadness.
After reading a few pages, he stopped, closed the book gently and put it back where it was.
Then he took off his coat and slowly laid down on the huge double bed.
The other half of the bed was empty and cold, without a trace of life.
He turned sideways, facing the empty space, reached out his hand, and took out a silk pajamas from under the pillow.
It's hers. Lotus pink with delicate lace.
He held his pajamas tightly in his arms, as if they were the most precious treasure in the world.
He buried his face deep into the soft fabric, closed his eyes, and breathed in greedily.
In the past, there was always a faint fragrance belonging to her lingering there. The gardenia mixed with the warmth of her body temperature was his only comfort to fall asleep.
But today...
No.
No taste at all.
He opened his eyes suddenly, his eyes filled with complete panic.
He buried his face in his pajamas again and sniffed harder, his nostrils flaring as if he was almost inhaling the fabric into his lungs.
Still no.
That familiar, comforting smell disappeared. Completely disappeared.
Three years have passed, and time has finally taken away the last trace of her.
His breathing suddenly became shallow, as if all the oxygen had been sucked away.
He looked around the huge, empty bedroom.
She has lost her scent...
Where else could he look?
Where else can we find a little evidence that she existed?
He didn't know what else he could hold on to.
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