The wind rises again, and the wind chimes sway gently.
Cheng Muyun's vision suddenly blurred, and in a daze, a figure actually walked towards the end of the corridor—the moon-white mandarin jacket made her figure look light and agile, and the ends of her hair swayed slightly with her steps. She raised her head, her gaze fell on the wind chimes, and a clear smile curved the corners of her mouth, her eyes filled with tiny sparkles.
"Zhuohua..." he almost blurted out, but something blocked his throat, leaving only silent breathing and the sudden pain of his heart constricting.
The scene before my eyes vanished with the wind, as quickly as an illusion.
He suddenly raised his hand, trying to grasp something, but his fingertips only passed through empty air.
A sudden itch came from his face. Cheng Muyun raised his hand to rub it, but what he touched was a warm, damp area.
Tears finally streamed down her cheeks, landing on the cold stone slab and leaving a small, dark stain.
"What's wrong with you?" Xu Jixin's voice rang in my ears, carrying a hint of barely perceptible surprise.
He raised his hand and waved it in front of Cheng Muyun's eyes, his gaze falling on the still-wet tear stain on Cheng's face, and he froze.
Cheng Muyun cried.
This realization shook Xu Jixin to his core.
In his mind, Cheng Muyun was a heartless "murderous maniac," a ruthless character who would bleed but not shed tears. But at this moment, the man had his eyes downcast, his profile was taut, and tear stains were clearly imprinted on his skin, making him as fragile as glass that could shatter at the slightest touch.
Xu Jixin suddenly felt a little irritated.
He would rather Cheng Muyun remain as sinister and cold as ever, so that his hatred would have a place to go.
But his current state... caused all the resentment he had been holding in for so long to get stuck in his throat, neither coming out nor going down, leaving him unable to vent it.
Cheng Muyun wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, feigning calmness, biting his chin, and sighed, "It's nothing. Where is your father?"
Xu Jixin frowned. He had felt something was wrong from the moment Cheng Muyun entered the room. Cheng Muyun was as fragile as a porcelain doll, as if a gust of wind could blow her over.
"Cheng Muyun, something's wrong with you, you..."
Before he could finish speaking, Cheng Muyun interrupted him: "I shouldn't stay in the Xu family any longer. After I see your father and retrieve Zhuohua's belongings, I will leave."
Xu Jixin clenched his fist and sighed deeply. "Zhuohua's belongings are all in the Cheng Mansion, and almost all of them were burned. What belongings could the Xu family possibly have? She didn't even live here for more than a few days."
Cheng Muyun's gaze swept over, carrying a murderous aura, which startled Xu Jixin.
"Your dad said he has it, he wouldn't lie to me, would he?"
Xu Jixin helplessly spread his palms, "If he says so, then so be it. I don't know why Dad insisted on inviting you to our house."
The implication was that Cheng Muyun was not suitable to come to their home.
Cheng Muyun naturally knew this as well. "I won't be staying for long. Lead the way, don't waste time."
Cheng Muyun had never spoken to Xu Jixin in such a sarcastic tone before, because Xu Jixin was considered a good older brother to Xu Zhuohua.
However, he has no intention of showing goodwill to anyone right now, which has aroused Xu Jixin's hostility towards him.
The second young master, Xu Jixin, said coldly, "Come with me. My father has been waiting for you for a long time. As a junior, you are making your elders wait."
Upon hearing this, Cheng Muyun gave a self-deprecating laugh.
His only connection with the Xu family had been severed. He just wanted the family to live well, but it was best to avoid contact altogether. Anyone who had too much contact with Cheng Muyun would not have a good ending.
The two entered the main hall one after the other. Xu Shinong was already sitting in the main seat. When her gaze fell on Cheng Muyun, her brows furrowed slightly, which then turned into an almost inaudible sigh.
"Have a seat." He gestured with his hand, his voice devoid of much emotion.
Cheng Muyun and Xu Jixin took their seats and remained silent for a while, with only the occasional sound of the wind from outside the window.
Xu Jixin glanced at the food on the table, his brows immediately furrowing, his tone full of disdain: "Dad, didn't we have someone prepare this a long time ago? Why is this the kind of food you're serving?"
In his view, no matter how many mistakes Cheng Muyun made, he was once the person Xu Zhuohua cherished most, and also the nominal son-in-law of the Xu family.
Even though the relationship has faded now, a banquet should still be held to be presentable. But the dishes on the table before us—the porridge so thin you could see your reflection in it, the wild vegetables that looked like they had just been dug up from the ground, and a few hard, coarse cornbread buns—were really too shabby to be true.
Xu Shinong picked up her teacup, her fingertips tracing the rim, and said calmly, "This is the daily food at the Huian Temple nunnery in Dongzhou. Zhuohua ate it there for six years."
As soon as those words were spoken, Xu Jixin fell silent, his displeasure freezing on his face, turning into a complex look of bewilderment.
Cheng Muyun's hand gripping the chopsticks tightened suddenly, his knuckles turning white.
His gaze changed, and ripples suddenly appeared in that empty space, like a deep pool into which a stone had been thrown.
After a moment of silence, he slowly picked up a piece of wild vegetable with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth.
The rough fibers rubbed against the teeth, carrying a raw, earthy smell, and a hint of acidity.
As I swallowed, it felt like my throat was being scraped by fine sand, and a dull pain spread along my esophagus.
The cornbread was even harder to swallow; the dry, hard grains made the tip of the tongue go numb.
Back in the day, when he was on the march and fighting, he would chew on grass roots and tree bark without ever frowning.
But at this moment, this ordinary coarse food felt like a boulder stuck in his throat, making each bite extremely difficult to swallow.
Tears welled up again without warning, sliding down my cheeks and splashing onto the dark tablecloth, leaving a small wet patch.
He kept his head down, and no one saw the guilt and pity surging in his eyes—so that's how she spent those six years.
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