Qin Yuzheng did not answer, but just put his hand on the back of Qin Yuheng's hand on his shoulder.
The autumn sun shone a light on the leaves of the camphor tree, which were shattered into spots of light and floated like gold foil on the blue-gray brick walls of the old house.
When Qin Yuheng's car rolled over the gravel road in front of the courtyard gate, it startled two gray pigeons that were perched on the mailbox. They flapped their wings and flew into the crown of the camphor tree, shaking off a few leaves with serrated edges, which happened to fall on the back of Qin Yuheng's hand as he stretched out the car window.
"Brother, look, it's still the same tree." His fingertips stroked the fine veins on the leaves, and the sunlight filtered through the gaps between the leaves, casting flickering spots of light on the back of his hand.
"When I was little, I climbed up to rob a bird's nest and got stuck on a branch. When you got the ladder to help me, Mom scolded me for half an hour."
Qin Yuzheng parked the car in front of the garage and his eyes fell on the gnarled trunk of the camphor tree.
A pale white scar could still be vaguely seen there. It was the crooked letter "&" that Qin Yuheng had carved with a knife when he was young - a symbol unique to the two brothers.
"You even smashed the bird's eggs on the sheets Mom had just washed." He pushed open the car door, a rare hint of a smile in his voice.
The copper doorknob of the old house was covered in moss. When Qin Yuheng reached out to knock, his fingertips felt the cool copper. The door hinge creaked softly, as if a long-dormant beast had been awakened.
The edges of the Persian carpet at the entrance are a little worn, but it still retains its intricate patterns. The air is filled with the scent of sandalwood mixed with old book paper, like a jar of aged wine that has been sealed for many years.
"It's still the same." Qin Yuheng squatted down, untied his shoelaces, revealing the light pink scar on his ankle - it was caused when he fell while chasing a cat in the backyard of the old house when he was twelve years old. Qin Yuzheng carried him on his back and ran three blocks before finding the clinic.
He walked barefoot on the cool marble floor and walked towards the picture frame on the living room wall.
In the solid wood photo frame, the young mother was wearing a moon-white cheongsam and a jade bracelet passed down from her grandmother on her wrist. The father stood beside her with his hand on the shoulder of the young Qin Yuzheng.
Qin Yuheng, who was held in his mother's arms, was holding his father's tie and smiling, revealing his incomplete baby teeth.
Qin Yuheng's fingertips gently brushed across his mother's cheek in the photo, leaving a blurry fingerprint on the glass surface.
"When Mom left, I was still young and ignorant." His voice was very soft, as if he was afraid to disturb the dust floating in the air. "I only remember you holding me and saying that you would take care of me from now on."
Qin Yuzheng walked up to him and looked at his father's gentle eyes and brows in the photo - the man who taught him how to control a business empire but passed away suddenly when he was thirteen.
"After Dad passed away, Mom transferred all the shares to me, saying that the Qin family would rely on us brothers in the future."
His eyes fell on the photo of himself holding his father's fingers tightly. "Before she died, she told me to protect you no matter what."
The grandfather clock in the corner of the living room suddenly rang, and the dull sound echoed in the empty old house.
Qin Yuheng suddenly turned around, hugged Qin Yuzheng's waist, and buried his face in the other's shoulder.
"Brother," his voice trembled slightly, "sometimes I wonder, if mom and dad were still alive, wouldn't we have to live such a tiring life?"
Qin Yuzheng's body stiffened for a moment, then he raised his hand and gently patted Qin Yuheng's back like he did when they were children.
The sunlight shines through the diamond-shaped window panes, casting interlaced light and shadows on them, as if time has flown back to countless similar afternoons.
"There are no ifs." His voice was low and firm. "But the way we are now is fine."
The whistle of the boiling kettle came from the kitchen, and Qin Yuheng remembered that he was making tea.
He let go of her hand, his nose reddening, but he deliberately said in a light tone: "Brother, wait, I'll go make your favorite Biluochun."
Qin Yuzheng watched his back as he walked into the kitchen. A small part of his waistline was exposed under the hem of his shirt, and there was a faint burn scar there - it was caused by oil splashing on him when he was cooking supper for him when he was fourteen.
He walked to the window, looked at the camphor tree in the courtyard, and heard the rustling of leaves in the wind.
In the kitchen, Qin Yuheng opened the cupboard and took out a white porcelain tea set engraved with a lotus pattern.
He remembered his brother's preference for brewing tea with 80-degree mountain spring water. The tea leaves would be placed in the cup first, and the water would flow in a silvery stream, circling the sides of the cup. The crisp clink of the porcelain cups mingled with the birdsong outside the window.
The phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated. It was a message from Ji Yan: "Ruan Weiwei has confirmed her departure. Her destination is Southeast Asia. Local agents will follow up."
After reading the message, Qin Yuheng tapped the screen with his fingertips to completely delete the message.
When he walked out of the kitchen with the tea tray, Qin Yuzheng was sitting on the sofa, holding a copy of "Das Kapital", his father's favorite book, with annotations written by his father on the edges of the pages.
The sunlight fell on Qin Yuzheng's slightly furrowed brows, melting the coldness in his eyes into a soft light.
"Brother, the tea is ready." Qin Yuheng placed the teacup next to him. In the emerald green tea soup, the tea leaves stretched out into the shape of spring.
He sat down next to Qin Yuzheng and rested his head gently on his brother's shoulder, just like when he was a child.
"Tell me, if Mom sees us like this in heaven, will she blame us for turning Qin into what she is now?"
Qin Yuzheng closed the book and held Qin Yuheng's slightly cold hand.
"She would just want us to live well."
The shadow of the camphor tree outside the window swayed, casting fragmented sunlight into the living room.
"Brother," he said softly, "when the south city project is finished, let's renovate the old house. Plant a camphor tree in the backyard, just like when we were kids."
Qin Yuzheng did not answer, but just held Qin Yuheng's hand tighter.
The sunlight filtered through the teapot, casting a green spot on the carpet, which contrasted beautifully with the photo of the parents on the wall.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
