It was late at night, and the cold wind blew up the fallen leaves on the street corners, making a rustling sound.
Ning Xiuyan curled up beside a dark trash can not far from "Chen Ji", his whole body in pain, cold sweat soaked through his tattered expensive suit, sticking to his skin sticky and cold.
Every breath involved the ribs and abdomen that had been hit hard by Chen Yanbai, and the place where the lower jaw was dislocated and then roughly reset sent waves of piercing soreness, swelling, numbness and pain.
The bruises on the wrists where Chen Yanxiu had stepped on them were clearly visible, burning the nerves.
He was like a trapped beast on the verge of death, with suppressed, discordant sobs coming from his throat.
Fear, pain, and immense humiliation were like cold poisonous snakes gnawing at his last remaining consciousness.
Chao Youye's indifference, Mu Xinrong's ridicule, the Shen brothers' precise and brutal beatings...all of this was like an absurd and terrifying nightmare, which completely trampled him from the clouds into the mud and crushed him to pieces.
The waters of Guanghua are not only deep, but also a devouring abyss!
He didn't know how he survived that freezing night.
At daybreak, he finally managed to muster up some strength and almost crawled out of the alley that left such a deep impression on him.
He used the little change he had left (probably what had fallen out of his wallet earlier) to take the cheapest car and escaped back to the cold and empty penthouse.
For the next few days, Ning Xiuyan disappeared from the world. He locked himself in his apartment, pulling all the heavy curtains tight, blocking out all light and sound from the outside world.
Expensive alcohol became his only solace, numbing the intense pain in his body and soul with its intense burning sensation. He didn't dare look in the mirror, didn't dare think about his current miserable appearance, and even more didn't dare think about the rumors that might have spread outside.
He rudely hung up or simply ignored the several calls from Ning Xiwan.
He was like a mortally wounded wild animal who only wanted to hide in his lair and lick his wounds, even though the wounds were so deep that the bones were visible and might never heal.
At the same time, the days at Chen Ji Noodle House continued to flow in a strange calm and order.
It was as if Ning Xiuyan’s intrusion that night and the subsequent “cleaning” were just a tiny speck of dust that was gently brushed away without leaving any trace.
Chen Yanxiu showed up on time every morning, meticulously cleaning the place, checking the ingredients, and starting to knead the dough and make the soup. His movements were precise and efficient, with an almost demanding sense of neatness.
The eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses were calm, as if he could perceive the slightest changes in the ingredients, but was indifferent to the hustle and bustle of the world.
Chen Yanbai, on the other hand, was more of an unpredictable variable. Sometimes he would lazily lean against the door, watching the few pedestrians in the early morning, his silver hair swaying gently in the breeze, the teardrop mole at the corner of his eye looking eerie in the morning light.
Sometimes, on a whim, he would snatch the dough from Chen Yanxiu's hand and knead it casually like mud with his bony hands that contained terrifying strength. Then, Chen Yanxiu would stop him with a silent look and he would throw it back in anger.
Most of the time, he just sat quietly in the corner, wiping the dishes that were already as clean as new with a soft cloth, his eyes blank, not knowing what he was thinking.
Only when facing Chen Yanxiu, those beautiful peach blossom eyes would occasionally reveal an almost pure dependence, and she would briefly call out "Brother".
Their noodle shop wasn't very busy, but they always had some regular customers, mostly early-morning workers from nearby, or locals who enjoyed their craft and wanted some quiet time.
The atmosphere in the store is usually silent, with only the bubbling sound of noodles cooking, the slight clinking of dishes, and the occasional discordant, slightly eerie tune hummed by Chen Yanbai.
That afternoon, near dusk, the sky was a little gloomy. The shop was unusually quiet, with not a single customer.
Chen Yanbai was bored and was drawing patterns that no one could understand on the glass window covered with a thin layer of moisture with his fingertips.
Chen Yanxiu stood behind the cooking table, carefully wiping the knives. Each one gleamed with a cold gleam and was in excellent condition.
Just then, the shop door was gently pushed open with a slight "creaking" sound.
A hunched figure moved in extremely slowly.
She was an old lady, who looked very old, with almost completely white hair, sparsely tied back and fixed with a simple wooden hairpin.
Her face was covered with deep wrinkles, like dry land, carved with the frost of time. She wore an old dark blue cotton-padded jacket, washed white with frayed cuffs, and carried an equally worn, patched cloth bag on her back.
His steps were unsteady, and he took every step carefully, as if he might fall at any moment. His cloudy eyes, with a cautious, almost humble inquiry, first quickly glanced at the empty store, and then timidly fell on the two people behind the kitchen.
"That...boss..." The old lady's voice was hoarse and weak, with a strong local accent.
"Any more... noodles?"
Her fingers tightly grasped the edge of the cloth bag, her knuckles turning white from the force, revealing her inner tension.
Chen Yanbai's fingers paused as he was drawing the pattern. He turned his head, and his silver hair slid down his forehead with the movement.
Those beautiful peach blossom eyes looked at the old woman at the door without any emotion. There was neither the welcome of an ordinary shopkeeper seeing a customer nor the impatience of being disturbed. It was just pure and indifferent observation.
He even tilted his head slightly, as if assessing an unfamiliar object.
Chen Yanxiu also stopped wiping the knife. He raised his eyes, and his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses fell calmly on the old lady.
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