Chapter 315 Pretending Nothing Happened
But that unease lingered like a shadow behind me, refusing to dissipate.
Even after the doors closed again and the carriage returned to silence, the oppressive feeling still lingered in the air, refusing to dissipate.
The night was deep and dark, as thick as spilled ink. It was pitch black outside the window, and even the lights of the distant villages could not be seen.
Only the rhythmic, heavy clanging of wheels against rails, like the footsteps of time, relentlessly crushing the human heart.
The private room was lit by only a dim, yellowish lamp, its light barely illuminating half of the corner of the table.
Song Yazhi leaned on her husband's shoulder, already fast asleep. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder, and there were still tear stains on the corners of her eyes, glistening wetly in the dim light.
Qiao Wanyin leaned gently against Fu Li'an's shoulder, her ear pressed against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and feeling the rhythmic swaying of the train.
Her fingers were slightly numb, and her lower back was a little sore, but she didn't want to move.
She knew this was a rare moment of peace for her.
Fu Lian noticed that her posture was a little uncomfortable, so he quietly adjusted the angle of his body and used his arm to create a more comfortable space for her, trying to make her lean more securely.
"Take a nap."
His voice was very soft, almost swallowed by the roar of the train, but it carried a reassuring power: "I'll call you when we arrive."
Qiao Wanyin gently shook her head.
In the dim light, she looked up at her husband's tense profile.
His jawline was defined, and his brows were slightly furrowed. Although he didn't speak, she knew that he wasn't as calm as he appeared.
She knew he was more afraid than she was—afraid that this sudden inquiry concealed a bigger storm, afraid that she and the child would be implicated, afraid that everything he had been protecting would collapse overnight.
But he never showed the slightest weakness, always standing before her like a mountain.
She quietly tightened her grip on his hand, their palms overlapping, their fingertips slightly cool.
Deep in her heart, she silently vowed: This time, she must not let fate repeat itself!
No matter the cost, she would protect her family, the child in her womb, and their hard-won happiness.
As the train slowly came to a stop at Suzhou Station, the sky was just beginning to lighten, and the morning light was faintly visible, like a thin veil gently draped over the platform.
The distant mountain shadows were still shrouded in mist, and the air was crisp and damp, carrying the unique coolness of early spring.
Qiao Wanyin rubbed her aching back and slowly stood up, her movements cautious.
Fu Lian immediately reached out to help her up, his hand firmly supporting her arm, while his other hand carried her luggage bag. His movements were swift yet measured.
"Qingqing, slow down, the steps are high."
He whispered a reminder, his tone full of concern.
His gaze never left her, and he walked very slowly, as if afraid she might stumble or fall.
She nodded, her feet landing steadily on the ground through the gap between the train and the platform.
The morning breeze brushed against her cheeks, carrying a hint of chill, but her heart warmed a little.
—They finally arrived.
The platform was not crowded and rather deserted.
The cold wind swirled withered leaves across the ground, and a thin layer of frost formed on the edge of the railway tracks, gleaming coldly in the dim morning light.
The empty platform seemed to have been forgotten by the world, with only a few dim streetlights barely providing a small patch of light.
But Qiao Wanyin could sense that there were eyes secretly watching them.
That gaze was like a needle piercing the back of her neck, sending a chill down her spine and making the hairs on her back stand on end.
She instinctively gripped Fu Lian'an's arm tightly, her fingertips icy cold.
She asked in a low voice, "Is someone following me?"
The voice was so low that only the two of them could hear it, as if afraid of disturbing the hunters lurking in the shadows.
Fu Li'an nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over a man in a gray Zhongshan suit not far away.
The man stood behind a pillar at the end of the platform, his hat brim pulled low, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, his posture stiff, yet he showed no sign of leaving.
His shadow, stretched long by the morning light, lay across the mottled floor tiles like a silent warning.
"Don't turn around, pretend nothing happened."
Fu Lian turned his head to the side, his lips barely moving, his voice as soft as a whisper, carrying an undeniable calmness.
Her fingers, however, slipped quietly into her sleeve and touched the dagger hidden in her wrist.
The Fu family's old house is located in the old city of Suzhou. It is a two-story villa with red bricks and gray tiles, and it looks quite old.
The exterior wall was covered with ivy, its branches and leaves withered, and a few withered leaves hanging sparsely.
The paint on the wooden window frames has peeled off, revealing dark old marks underneath. The stone steps in front of the porch have been washed white by the rain, and a few stubborn wild grasses have sprouted from the cracks.
"Wheat!"
Song Yazhi shouted as soon as she got out of the car.
Her voice shattered the morning silence, carrying a long-suppressed excitement and heartache.
Fu Maihe suddenly looked up, her eyes red, and tears streamed down her face.
She was standing in the shadows of the porch when she heard her mother's voice, and she trembled as if she had been set on fire.
Her eyes were already red from crying, and tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto her collar and leaving a dark stain.
She ran over and threw herself into her mother's arms, crying, "Mom! You're finally back!"
His voice was choked with sobs and he held Song Yazhi's waist tightly with both hands, as if afraid that if he let go, the person in front of him would disappear again.
Her frail body trembled uncontrollably, like a fledgling bird finally returning to its nest.
Qiao Wanyin's heart clenched when she glanced at her sister-in-law—it hadn't been long since she last saw her, but she had become so thin, as if she had been blown away by the wind. Her face was sunken in two places, and there were dark circles under her eyes, as if she had stayed up for several nights in a row.
Her once round cheeks were now just a thin layer of skin clinging to her cheekbones, her lips were pale and cracked, and her hair had lost its luster, sticking out messily at the back of her head.
The oversized old sweater hanging on his body made him look particularly thin.
"Let's go inside and talk."
Fu Xianxiu spoke in a low voice, his gaze sweeping over the quiet street outside.
He stood in the doorway with his back to the light, his figure upright but showing signs of fatigue, his brows never relaxed.
His gaze slowly swept over the street corner, the alleyway across the street, and the second-floor window. After confirming that there was no suspicious activity, he gently closed the courtyard gate.
As soon as they entered the living room, the middle-aged couple and their two young children on the sofa immediately stood up.
The old sofa creaked, and the air seemed to freeze instantly.
Anxiety and anticipation were written on everyone's faces, and all eyes were turned to the few people who had just entered.
Qiao Wanyin had a rough idea of what was going on—this must be Song Heting's wife, Lin Shuxian, and their children, Song Siyuan and Song Siqi.
The woman's eyes were lined with fine lines, and her gaze was moist and weary; one of her two children, a tall boy, had anger written all over his face, while the other girl had her head down and her fingers were tightly twisting the hem of her clothes.
"Yazhi..."
Lin Shuxian had barely uttered a sound when her throat tightened, tears welled up in her eyes, and she rushed over to hug Qiao Wanyin tightly, her shoulders trembling as she cried.
Her lips trembled as she tried to say something, but only managed to utter broken sobs.
Years of repression, grievances, and fear finally broke down, and tears soaked Qiao Wanyin's shoulders.
Qiao Wanyin didn't speak, silently observing this aunt she had never met before.
She could feel the other person's thin body trembling violently, the bones in their arms digging into her ribs, and their weakness was heartbreaking.
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