Xu Shinong looked at Cheng Muyun's tears, a knowing glint in his eyes, and raised his hand in a gesture.
Soon, servants filed in carrying new plates, the exquisite porcelain plates filled with various delicacies, their colors bright and their aromas enticing.
Cheng Muyun's gaze swept across the table, and his heart clenched—the sweet and sour sauce on the squirrel-shaped mandarin fish was just right, the pleats of the crystal shrimp dumplings were so even they looked like they were made from a mold, and there was also the bowl of sweet lotus root sprinkled with osmanthus flowers... Every single one of them was a flavor that Xu Zhuohua preferred.
He loosened his grip on the chopsticks, then tightened it again, finally placing the chopsticks back on the table.
His gaze was fixed on the dishes, and sadness washed over him like a tide, almost drowning him.
Xu Shinong watched all this with a calm expression, picking up her chopsticks and saying, "This sweet and sour fish was Zhuohua's favorite dish. She doesn't eat much, always just taking a small bite like a cat, but if it's on the table, she'll always take a few more bites."
Cheng Muyun remained expressionless, but his fingertips curled up under the table.
He didn't touch the dishes; each one was like a red-hot iron, and touching it would burn his heart.
He feared that if he raised his hand, the longing he had been forcibly suppressing would completely burst forth.
Xu Shih-nong, however, seemed oblivious to his restraint. She picked up a piece of braised pork with her chopsticks and said slowly, "This is the only local dish she likes. Actually, the taste is quite ordinary. It's rich and dark in soy sauce, and she only takes one bite each time before she gets tired of it."
"Enough!"
Cheng Muyun suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse from suppressed emotion.
He couldn't bear to recall this agonizing memory for even a second longer.
With a "smack," he slammed his hand on the table, the porcelain bowl rattling softly, and a few drops of soup splashed out.
Those eyes, which had just been filled with sorrow, were now covered with a layer of cold frost. Even Xu Jixin, who had been silent all along, was startled by the sudden commotion and looked up.
Cheng Muyun slowly stood up, looking down at Xu Shinong, his tone as cold as ice: "Father-in-law, I came here not to reminisce over these dishes. If you want to remind me not to forget Zhuohua, you are overthinking it—I have been thinking about her every single second since she left."
He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as he forcefully suppressed the tears welling in his eyes, his voice growing even colder: "Furthermore, unless it's something urgent, there's no need for further contact. The Xu family has a clean record; they have no reason to get involved with a 'murderous maniac' like me. It's of no benefit to you."
Cheng Muyun pulled out a chair, took a step back, bowed deeply to Xu Shinong, and then turned to leave.
"Wait!" Xu Shinong called out to Cheng Muyun, "Don't you want to know what Zhuohua did to keep you alive?"
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