Chapter 35
The morning light shines through the off-white gauze curtains, casting soft spots of light on the wooden floor.
I tiptoed downstairs, avoiding the guest rooms. Last night before bed, I'd messaged Aunt Yuko, telling her not to come over today. She'd avoid seeing Atobe staying the night and then making those "I know, I know" looks and teasing me for a long time.
When Xiaokong heard the noise, he immediately raised his head from his soft doghouse, his round black eyes sparkling and his tail wagging like a motor. After he was given some dog food, the little guy immediately buried his head in work, purring with satisfaction.
I opened the refrigerator and it was filled to the brim with Aunt Yuko's food.
I picked some millet and made some simple porridge, put frozen custard buns and barbecued pork buns in the steamer, and fried two soft-boiled eggs. The aroma of food gradually filled the kitchen.
The doorbell rang, it was an errand scheduled.
I took a paper bag with the logo of a high-end department store printed on it. Just as I closed the door, I heard the door of the guest room upstairs open and footsteps coming down the stairs.
Atobe stood at the stairs, still wearing the slightly wrinkled shirt from last night, his hair a little messy, but his eyes had regained their usual clarity and sharpness, though with a barely perceptible hint of fatigue.
He saw me and nodded slightly.
"Good morning." I handed over the paper bag in my hand. "It was sent by someone. Wear it for now."
He took it with some surprise, opened the bag and took a look. Inside was a dark gray Versace men's cashmere blend home suit with excellent texture, as well as a Versace haute couture casual suit and matching shirt with elegant tailoring and crisp fabric, the size was exactly right.
"Go take a shower and change into something clean," I pointed in the direction of the guest bathroom on the first floor, "Breakfast will be ready soon."
His gaze paused on my face for a second, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just nodded: "Thank you." Then he turned and went into the bathroom with the bag.
The sound of running water filled the air. I placed warm porridge, steamed buns, and fried eggs on the table.
Not long after, the bathroom door opened, and Atobe emerged wearing his dark gray Versace home suit. The top-quality fabric fitted his tall figure perfectly, and even the simplest style exuded an indescribable elegance.
While wiping his slightly damp hair with a towel, he glanced inconspicuously across the living room.
His eyes swept across the seemingly random but actually priceless abstract paintings on the wall, the Steinway grand piano in the corner, and the well-kept courtyard outside the window.
In the heart of Tokyo, a detached villa with a garden, a dedicated nanny, and easy access to designer couture that fits her perfectly... Thinking back to the Elie Saab dress she'd worn before, a trace of deep thought crossed Atobe Keigo's eyes.
Kirishan Hidden, the background of this school is probably much more than just an ordinary transfer student.
"Honey water," I pushed a cup of warm, pale yellow liquid in front of him, "You'll feel better the next day after a hangover if you drink this."
He pulled out a chair and sat down, then took a sip from the cup. The warm sweetness slid down his throat, indeed relieving some of the remaining discomfort. "Thank you for your trouble."
Breakfast was conducted in a subtle and quiet tacit understanding.
Xiaokong finished his breakfast and ran over happily with his tail wagging. His wet nose went straight to Jibe's slipper-covered feet, and he held his beloved frisbee in his mouth, making a whining sound to urge him.
Atobe put down his spoon and looked down at the enthusiastic fur ball at his feet, his lips curling slightly. He picked up the Frisbee, stood up, and walked towards the glass door leading to the garden. Xiaokong immediately followed him out excitedly, playing happily on the cool grass in the early morning.
I cleared the dishes and leaned against the door frame to watch.
On the lawn bathed in morning light, a tall boy, though a bit clumsy, patiently threw the Frisbee again and again. The golden retriever happily chased, leaped, and fetched it back, eagerly awaiting the next round.
The sunlight outlined his focused profile and Xiaokong's fluffy golden hair, and the picture was warm and unreal.
Atobe threw the frisbee again, and Xiaokong chased after it like a golden lightning. He turned around and met my gaze as I leaned against the door.
"What are you looking at?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse from waking up in the morning.
I raised my hand and pointed to the tall golden osmanthus tree in the corner of the garden. A rich, sweet fragrance wafted in with the breeze. "Look at the osmanthus flowers. They are very fragrant. They are ready to be picked."
He looked in the direction of my finger. Tiny golden flowers clustered among the dark green leaves were indeed in full bloom. He rarely took the initiative to speak: "Do you need help?"
So I got the folding ladder out of the tool shed.
Atobe took the ladder and placed it steadily under the tree.
He climbed up with swift movements, his slender fingers carefully avoiding the branches and leaves as he plucked clusters of plump osmanthus flowers and placed them in the small bamboo basket I handed him. Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the branches, falling on his focused face, softening even the usual sense of alienation.
"What are you picking so many for?" he asked as he picked the fruits.
"You can make osmanthus cake and osmanthus honey for food. You can also make some simple osmanthus sachets and hang them in the room to add fragrance." I looked up at him picking flowers and explained.
"Sachet?" He looked down at me, his tone a little surprised. "You can make something like this?"
"I can't do anything too complicated," I said matter-of-factly, "but I can still make the simplest kind, stuffing some dried osmanthus flowers with some calming dried lavender, sewing a cloth bag and hanging it up."
He was silent for a few seconds, his hands did not stop moving, but his voice fell clearly: "Then make one for me."
I:"……?"
"Didn't you just say you could do it?" he asked as a matter of course.
"...I said I would do it, but I didn't say I would do it for you." I was a little speechless.
He descended the ladder, carrying a basket half-full of osmanthus flowers. He stood before me, his towering figure a bit oppressive. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on me, and said with the assurance of a negotiation, "There are benefits."
"What benefits?" I raised my eyebrows.
"The stage play went smoothly, and the response exceeded our expectations. The school's bonus has arrived, and the photography club, as the primary documentation team, will receive a significant share," he stated flatly. "I can have your share prioritized and expedited."
"... Keigo Atobe, are you abusing your power for personal gain?" I looked at him and was almost laughing at this blatant "bribery".
"It's just about making rational use of resources and improving efficiency." His expression remained calm, his eyes calm. "A sachet in exchange for an early bonus. It's a good deal, isn't it?"
I looked at his face so close to me, which was full of the expression "I am a very reasonable man", and then thought about the money, and struggled internally for three seconds.
"...Alright." I resigned myself to taking the osmanthus basket from his hand and gave him a sullen glance. "For the sake of the money. What fragrance do you want? Pure osmanthus? Or something else?"
He stood up straight, and the corners of his lips seemed to curl up in a very shallow and fast arc, so fast that it seemed like an illusion.
"You decide." He paused, then added, "Just keep it simple. Don't make it too complicated."
After saying that, he turned around to tease Xiao Kong who was running towards him with the frisbee in his mouth, leaving me gnashing my teeth silently at the aroma of the basket full of golden osmanthus and the words "for the sake of money".
The brand new Versace haute couture casual suit has smooth and neat lines, and the dark gray wool blend fabric emits a low-key and luxurious luster under the crystal chandelier in the magnificent entrance hall of the Atobe Manor.
As soon as Keigo Atobe stepped into the entrance hall, the old butler who had been waiting there immediately captured the sight of this outfit with a brand new tailoring that had never appeared in the young master's wardrobe with his most sophisticated scanner.
"Master, you're back." The butler bowed slightly, his voice respectful as usual, but a hint of surprise that was hard to conceal flashed across his eyes that had seen a lot.
He took a step forward and naturally took the thin coat from Atobe's arm, but his eyes remained on the suit.
"This suit..." the butler paused, his tone filled with professional appreciation and inquiry. "It seems to be from the haute couture collection just released in Milan this season, the 'Dark Knight' silhouette featured by Versace. I didn't expect to see the real thing in Tokyo so soon."
He raised his eyes, looked at Atobe, and asked gently: "Master, which store did you buy it from? Or... was it given to you by a friend?"
Atobe paused slightly, his fingertips unconsciously brushing over the delicate dark patterns on the cuffs of his suit.
A gift from a friend... This statement subtly fits the facts, but also carries an indescribable ambiguity.
He recalled the figure who had handed him the paper bag that morning, and the reluctant compromise that seemed to be made "for the sake of money." His ears seemed to be slightly warmed.
"Well, the clothes were wrinkled, and a friend helped me prepare them." He responded vaguely, avoiding specific names and places. His tone remained calm as usual, but the discomfort could not be completely concealed.
The butler's smile deepened slightly, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothed out, revealing a tacit understanding. He stopped questioning the origin of the clothes and asked, "Which hotel did you stay at last night, Master? None of their hotels seem to have a record of your stay."
Atobe: “…”
The air was stagnant for a moment. Atobe cleared his throat and looked towards the stairs. "It's not a hotel. I stayed at a friend's house for one night." It was still that vague "friend's house."
The understanding smile in the butler's eyes grew even brighter. He bowed slightly and said no more: "I understand. Master, you have worked hard. Please have a good rest."
He held the coat that Atobe had changed out of and respectfully stepped away, leaving Atobe standing alone in the empty hallway, as if he could still feel the butler's all-knowing gaze branded on his back.
Back to the study on the second floor, the heavy solid wooden door isolates the outside world.
The air was filled with the calming scent of cedarwood and old papers. Atobe loosened his collar, walked over to the large desk, and sat down, but didn't immediately deal with the pile of documents.
He picked up the phone, slid his fingertips across the screen a few times, and dialed Yuushi Ozaki's number.
The call was connected almost immediately, and Oshitari's lazy Kansai accent came from the other end: "Hey, Atobe-sama? Contacting me so early, was your 'show of weakness' tactic last night so effective that you came to tell me the good news?"
He deliberately emphasized the words "weakness strategy" with a mischievous smile.
The scenes of last night flashed through Atobe's mind: the warm light, her soft voice, the honey water and hangover medicine she handed him, and the blanket that smelled of sunshine... and the warm touch through the fabric when she supported him.
An indescribable warmth quietly flowed through my heart, dispelling the last trace of hangover haze in the early morning.
The corners of his mouth unconsciously raised a slight arc, but his voice remained calm as usual: "Stop talking nonsense. I have something to ask you."
"Tsk, it seems to be working well." Oshitari keenly noticed the unusual lightness in Atobe's tone and chuckled, "Tell me, what could have made our young master so uneasy so early in the morning?"
Atobe restrained his smile, and his fingertips tapped unconsciously on the smooth table, making a regular sound.
He pondered for a moment before speaking slowly in a low voice, "It's about Kirishanin."
"Oh?" Inuzaka's voice became a little more serious.
"Her background is very wrong."
Atobe briefly described how the housekeeper had recognized the Versace haute couture this morning, and all the details he had seen in her house - a detached villa with a garden in the heart of Tokyo, the easy access to well-fitting and top-notch haute couture from big brands, including the Elie Saab piece from last time, the well-trained and live-in nanny, and the seemingly low-key but actually priceless furnishings in the house.
"This isn't the kind of wealth an ordinary student should have. I felt something was wrong with that dress last time. Oshitari, did you notice anything at the ball?"
There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. Oshitari pushed up his glasses, his gaze sharpening behind the lenses. "You finally noticed."
"When she showed up at the ball that night wearing that Elie Saab dress, I felt something was very wrong. It wasn't something you could get through ordinary channels. Afterwards, I went to my sister specifically to try to find out who the dress was ultimately loaned to."
He paused, his tone solemn, "Unfortunately, I can't find out. The other party's information is very strictly protected. Even my sister's connections can't pry open the information."
"Also," Oshitari added, his voice lowered, "that guy Hiyoshi mentioned this to me once."
"He said Kiriyama's whip was definitely something special. The Hiyoshi family runs an ancient martial arts dojo, and they're very sensitive to cold weapons. He said the material and craftsmanship of that whip couldn't be custom-made simply by having money. It was more like... something passed down through generations, something with special meaning."
A whip passed down from generation to generation? Atobe's brows furrowed deeply.
Not only did these fragments of information fail to piece together a clear outline, but they made the fog surrounding Wushanyin even thicker.
"Oshitari," Atobe's fingertips stopped tapping, his voice solemn, "Do you think... it's necessary to find out?"
"Check?" Oshitari chuckled softly on the other end of the phone, a little helpless. "Atobe, with your personality, haven't you already thought about this? What are you hesitating about? Are you worried that she will be unhappy if she finds out?"
Atobe didn't deny it. He did hesitate.
He had seen her sharpness when facing Yamamoto's questions, and had also felt her tenderness when caring for Xiaokong. He was unwilling to use cold investigation to pry into her and destroy the relationship he cherished and was quietly changing.
That would make him feel like a cheap snoop.
"Atobe," Oshitari's voice became serious, "I understand your concerns."
"But you and I both know that you feel more like her than just a 'classmate' or a 'partner'. You're attracted to her."
He spoke bluntly, piercing through the veil in Atobe's heart that he didn't want to delve into. "If her background is really as unfathomable as we suspected, and even enough to match the Atobe family, then it would be a good thing for you, her, and even your parents."
"At least, there will be less entanglement and trouble on the Yamamoto side, right? Yamamoto Misaki is not someone who gives up easily."
Atobe's knuckles turned slightly white, and Oshitari's words were like a precise scalpel, cutting open his most hidden concerns.
The pressure from the family, Yamamoto's persistence, and his feelings for her that were becoming increasingly clear but seemed uncertain due to the unknown.
"...I understand." In the end, Atobe just responded in a deep voice without making a clear statement.
"Think it over carefully." Inuzaka stopped trying to persuade you. "If you need any help, feel free to come to me. For example, can you check who owns the property rights of that villa?" He suggested half-jokingly.
"Let's talk later." Atobe ended the call.
Silence returned to the study. Sunlight streamed through the thick velvet curtains, casting a thin strip of light across the carpet. Atobe leaned back in the large leather chair, his gaze fixed on a drawer in the center of the desk.
He reached out and opened the drawer that he rarely touched. There was very little inside, only a small, dark blue velvet box lying there quietly.
With an imperceptible tremor on his fingertips, he opened the box.
There was no jewelry inside, only a small, unassuming white shell button, its edges frayed and showing the signs of age.
It was torn off the rooftop that day during the shoveling. Amidst the chaos, he somehow bent down and picked up the lone button from the cold concrete floor.
"Wushan...Yin..." He whispered the name, his voice barely audible in the empty study.
This tiny button, like a silent witness, also seemed like the beginning of an unsolvable puzzle. It lay quietly in his palm, silently questioning his next choice.
Should I respect her boundaries and maintain the status quo?
Or is it for the sake of longer-term possibilities, to touch the veil that she may not want to be unveiled?
The sunlight moved slowly across the carpet, and time seemed to stand still at this moment. Atobe Keigo held the button in his hand, lost in long contemplation.
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