In March, when the grass is green and the birds are singing, the city of Shin-Hai is unusually swept up by a cold wind.
A biting wind swept across the eaves of the Xu residence, carrying sand and dust, as if announcing an unusual visit in advance.
Under Xu Shinong's almost obsessive repeated invitations, Cheng Muyun finally relented and accepted the invitation.
The news spread throughout the Xu family, and the servants, who were originally performing their duties, suddenly became at a loss—they were about to be greeted by a man who was described by outsiders as a "murderous maniac."
Everyone's movements were tense, as if they were even holding their breath, afraid of disturbing something.
Since Xu Zhuohua's "death," Cheng Muyun has never set foot in the Xu residence again. Not because he was unwilling, but because he dared not.
Every blade of grass and every window frame here bears the shadow of that name, and the slightest touch would stir up a torrent of pain in his heart.
Moreover, the Xu family members inevitably bore similar features to her in their eyes and brows, a presence that he both longed for and feared.
The roar of an engine grew louder as a majestic Dodge sedan rolled across the stone pavement in front of the door and came to a steady stop at the bottom of the steps.
The dust kicked up by the wheels was swept away by the wind, and the servants in the courtyard all gasped in unison—the chill didn't seem to come from the weather, but rather from a biting wind that suddenly arose with Cheng Muyun's arrival, making their skin feel tight.
Xu Jixin stood at the door, his dark gray trench coat fluttering in the wind.
His gaze fell on the car door, which was as cold as ice, devoid of any welcoming warmth.
He could never forgive Cheng Muyun.
Since Xu Zhuohua's "funeral" ended, the two have not spoken a word to each other, as if the connection that began because of her had been severed with the yellow earth burying the coffin.
In Xu Jixin's eyes, Cheng Muyun's only connection to the Xu family was Xu Zhuohua.
Now that the line has been broken, the Xu family should sever ties with this man full of hostility. Why should they get involved in this murky water?
However, Xu Shinong insisted on going against the tide and insisted on holding this banquet. No matter how much he objected, it was to no avail. He was even ordered to personally come to the door to greet him.
Xu Jixin clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white.
With a thousand reluctances weighing on his mind, he had already made up his mind that he would never give Cheng Muyun a kind look.
The moment the car door was pushed open, a blast of cold wind rushed in, carrying with it the scent of the interior.
Cheng Muyun stepped out of the car, looking much thinner than he remembered. He raised his head slightly, his gaze passing over the steps and landing directly on Xu Jixin.
In that one glance, Xu Jixin felt as if his heart had been gripped tightly by something—the sorrow surging in those eyes was so thick and intense, like a bottomless, icy pool, that it instantly pierced his heart with pain.
If it weren't for the fact that the face still vaguely resembled Cheng Muyun's features, he would almost have thought he had mistaken someone for someone else.
In just over six months, a person could become so haggard.
Those deep, sharp eyes I remembered were now filled with crisscrossing red blood vessels, like a torn spider web. Their former sharpness had been completely worn away, leaving only an empty, lifeless void.
He exuded an indescribable dejection, like a tree about to wither, its branches and trunk losing all strength, surrounded by an inescapable deathly aura.
Where is this the "murderous maniac" who struck fear into people's hearts?
He looked like a trapped beast, exhausted by endless torment, even lifting his eyelids seemed utterly weary.
Xu Jixin's throat tightened, and the sarcastic remarks he had rehearsed countless times in his mind were now like a flood that had been blocked, unable to be uttered.
Cheng Muyun took a step up the stairs, each step feeling exceptionally heavy, as if a thousand pounds were weighing down on his feet.
When he walked up to Xu Jixin, he tugged at the corners of his mouth, revealing a smile that was more like a grimace, and his voice was as hoarse as a rusty iron door that hadn't been opened in a long time: "Long time no see, Second Young Master."
Xu Jixin frowned.
Cheng Muyun's voice was devoid of any emotional fluctuation, as stiff as a steel plate falling to the ground, and his eyes were frighteningly empty, as if his soul had long been ripped away, leaving only a walking corpse-like shell.
Cheng Muyun clearly did not want to linger here. Due to his special status, he had always been wary of having any public connection with the Xu family.
Before Xu Jixin could speak, he strode quickly into the courtyard.
Xu Jixin subconsciously turned around and followed, but after taking a couple of steps, he couldn't help but ask, "Cheng Muyun, why... are you like this?"
Cheng Muyun's steps didn't stop; they continued quickly and heavily, his voice carried on in fragments cut by the wind: "What do you want me to be like? What do you want me to be like?"
Xu Jixin pursed his lips, inwardly cursing.
Whether it's arrogance and domineering or sinister and ruthless, it doesn't matter what it looks like, but it can't be like this now—that pitiful look that can't be hidden is like a soft thorn, making people feel suffocated, and even the hatred that has been accumulating for a long time has weakened a bit.
Cheng Muyun never wanted to set foot in the Xu family.
For him, this mansion was a thorny path filled with memories, every step he took was a fragment related to Xu Zhuohua, and the slightest touch would cause his heart to ache.
Just like now, the emotions surging in his chest almost burst through his throat, and tears welled up in his eyes. He clenched his fists tightly to keep the hot tears from falling, and therefore, he dared not look back at the people behind him.
Every corner of the Xu family home is permeated with Xu Zhuohua's aura.
The wind chimes on the eaves rustled in the wind, making a soft, crisp sound, like the lingering tone of her laughter in the past.
Cheng Muyun remembered clearly that every time Xu Zhuohua walked through this corridor, she would subconsciously look up at the string of wind chimes, without even realizing it herself.
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