The morning light, like a sharp ice blade, pierced the room obliquely through the gaps in the carved window lattice, cutting cold, desolate patches of light on the blue brick floor.
Cheng Muyun suddenly sat up from the brocade quilt, the coolness brought by the silk slipping off his shoulders sending a shiver down his neck.
The lingering fragrance from last night still lingers in the air, but the familiar warmth of her body is long gone from my pillow.
He subconsciously touched his messy sideburns, his fingertips brushing against the lingering teeth marks on his earlobe, and memories suddenly surged like a tide.
The entangled limbs, the rapid breathing, and Xu Zhuohua whispering in his ear, "Cheng Muyun, marry Luo Yunqiao."
The gilded incense burner hanging outside the bed curtains had long since turned to cold, grayish-white ash, but the messy folds of the bedding and the red marks that snaked down his neck to his collarbone all spoke of the heat and passion of the previous night.
A chill crept up his spine to the back of his neck. Cheng Muyun walked barefoot on the cold blue bricks, his thin undergarment hanging loosely on his shoulders.
He staggered and grabbed the bedpost, the carved texture digging painfully into his palm.
The room was eerily quiet. His pale face was reflected in the bronze mirror, and his eyes were bloodshot, like a butterfly struggling in a spider web.
"Zhuohua?" he asked tentatively, his voice so hoarse that even he felt unfamiliar with it.
The celadon teacup on the table was upside down, and the bronze stove that had been used to warm wine last night had long since cooled.
Cheng Muyun fastened his clothes with trembling fingers. The celadon teacup on the table still had water stains from last night. He picked up the spout and poured out the tea. The icy tea flowed down his throat and into his stomach, and a chill spread from his internal organs to his fingertips.
"Squeak—" When the heavy, carved wooden door was pushed open, Cheng Muyun almost staggered as he turned around.
The curtain swayed slightly, but the expected figure did not appear. Instead, a young servant from the Xu family appeared with his eyes lowered.
"The young master has finally woken up." The servant lowered his eyes and placed the teapot heavily on the table, the copper rings clinking together with a clear, melodious sound.
Hot water was poured into the copper basin, and the rising steam, carrying warmth, blurred the young servant's face.
Cheng Muyun stared at the ripples churning in the copper basin, his own dejected appearance reflected in them.
He asked, "Where is your eldest daughter?"
The servant answered truthfully, "The young lady woke up a long time ago and told the young master to go to the study to look for her after he woke up."
Cheng Muyun immediately stood up, but was stopped by the servant. "Young master, Miss instructed that you must wash up with hot water and apply medicine before going out."
The servant pointed to the thermos on the table. Cheng Muyun walked over and opened it. Inside was a prepared ointment, heated in a water bath.
Cheng Muyun frowned. "Is your young lady in the study?"
The servant replied, "The master and the second young master are also in the study."
The Xu family usually discusses important matters in the study, but they have never called Cheng Muyun before.
Cheng Muyun sensed that something was amiss, so he quickly washed up, applied medicine, got dressed, and rushed to the study.
He hastily draped his outer robe over himself and rushed out the door before even tying his shoelaces properly.
A thin layer of frost covered the cobblestone path, and the morning light stretched his shadow long and thin. The early spring wind, carrying a chill, crept straight into his collar, and he subconsciously pulled his coat tighter.
As he passed the hanging flower gate, the servant who was sweeping fallen leaves suddenly stopped his bamboo broom, staring at him with his cloudy eyes, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.
At the corner of the corridor, a maid carrying a teacup saw him approaching and hurriedly stepped aside. Each person's reaction increased Cheng Muyun's doubts.
Cheng Muyun's steps quickened, his boots shattering the morning light, startling the sparrows sleeping under the eaves. Amidst the fluttering of their wings, he seemed to hear countless whispers exploding behind him.
The carved lattice doors in the study were half-closed. The moment Cheng Muyun reached out to push the door open, the coolness from his palm made him shiver.
His tall figure entered the study, and the voices inside abruptly stopped.
The morning light slanted through the carved window lattice of the study, casting dappled shadows on the desk.
Xu Shinong ran his fingertips along the yellowed route map of the east-to-south route, with ports marked in vermilion scattered throughout; Xu Jixin leaned back in his armchair with his eyes half-closed, a white porcelain cup in a bronze saucer steaming, while the teacup in front of the empty chair opposite him had long since gone cold.
Cheng Muyun's gaze swept over every corner of the room like a hawk's, past the ancient books neatly arranged on the sandalwood bookshelf and the "Yangtze River Shipping Chart" hanging on the wall, but the familiar figure was nowhere to be seen.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, swallowing a bitter taste. He heard his own hoarse voice, as if squeezed from deep within his chest, ask: "Where's Zhuohua?"
Xu Shinong put down the wolf-hair brush in his hand, the tip of the sheep-hair brush hovering on the Xuan paper, the ink spreading into a dark cloud: "Zhuohua left an hour ago, and now the boat is probably deep in the Yangtze River."
Before he could finish speaking, Cheng Muyun felt his eardrums pierced by a sharp buzzing sound, and the route map in front of him suddenly twisted into countless messy lines.
The blue brick floor beneath his feet seemed to suddenly collapse. He staggered and grabbed the edge of the table, his knuckles digging into the carved edges, scraping the sandalwood with a harsh sound.
"Gone?" Cheng Muyun clenched his fists, feeling a chill run through his body. "Why?"
Xu Jixin bit his lip, sighed, and then looked up. "I don't know either. Zhuohua only told Father, but Father insisted on waiting for you to come before telling us."
Xu Shih-nong's fingertips lingered in the hidden compartment for a moment before she pulled out the plain white envelope. Faint ink stains still clung to the edge of the kraft paper.
The envelope was as light as a feather, yet Cheng Muyun had to use all her strength to hold it.
He slumped into the armchair, the grain of the sandalwood armrests digging painfully into his palms.
The distant sound of the Yangtze River's steam whistle, mixed with the soft tinkling of wind chimes on the eaves, was particularly jarring in the quiet study.
"Where did Zhuohua go?" He only realized his voice was broken beyond recognition when he asked the question.
My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
