He wanted to know what had truly happened in the past, whether she had finally healed from those old wounds, and if she chose silence, he would simply stay by her side, unmoving…
In the ink-black cloak of night.
A long, desolate alleyway.
Pain was a cold, clutching hand twisting his insides; crouching over, he retched violently. Luo Xi’s ashen face, pale as a white blossom adrift on a midnight river, looked frail and desolate, his eyelashes slowly growing damp with tears amidst the near-death retching.
But… she didn't need him…
There was already someone else by her side…
Would Ou Chen abandon her because of her past…?
If she were cast aside, he would certainly mock her, making her regret ever having thrown him away! And then… only then would he forgive her… pull her into his arms, cherish and adore her, give her everything she ever desired, and never let her leave again…
The violent spasms drained him of all strength. Two slow tears traced paths down Luo Xi’s cheeks, quiet as starlight in the deep night, silent in the alley’s darkness.
Ou Chen…
How could he possibly give up on her…
How many times had he seen the feeling for her in Ou Chen’s eyes, so intense it was as if she were his only light? How could he abandon her over some supposed past…?
It was nothing more than the daydreaming of a fool…
Fate seemed determined to bind her and Ou Chen together, leaving him nothing but an extraneous piece, superfluous since the day he was born…
“Mr. Luo!”
The sound of searching footsteps echoed from outside the alley. The large man spotted Luo Xi huddled in the shadows and hurried over, reaching out to help him up.
Refusing the man’s assistance, Luo Xi struggled, leaning heavily against the wall, managing to straighten his body. His face remained deathly pale, but every trace of tears and vulnerability had vanished.
“Mr. Luo, let me escort you home.”
“… No need.”
Luo Xi’s solitary figure moved slowly and painfully out of the alleyway. The faint starlight of the night dappled his form, like a single, silent tear.
Everything was beyond repair…
In three days…
She would be another man’s bride…
The autumn sky was a clear, refreshing blue.
An old leather suitcase lay open on the desk, already filled with personal effects accumulated over more than a decade. A slightly aged hand reached for a framed photograph on the bedside table. Sunlight reflected off the glass, capturing the image: the Young Master, barely two years old, toddling after a cat on a verdant lawn. When he stumbled, nearly falling, the man reached out from behind to steady him. The boy looked back, his face alight with the pure, childish smile.
He stared at the photograph for a long, long time.
Steward Shen slowly placed the frame back into the suitcase. Zzzip—the sound of the zipper closing slowly. He lifted the heavy case, turned with measured steps, and walked toward the door.
“I heard you resigned?”
A footstep sounded at the threshold. A slender, graceful figure appeared—it was Yin Xia Mo. Gazing at the suitcase in the old man’s hand and his silvering hair, her voice was low and calm.
When she learned in the hospital room that Steward Shen had masterminded everything in the past, she thought she would be consumed by resentment over Xiao Cheng’s sudden worsening condition and the terrifying memories from the dark places. Yet, she found she simply could not hate this stubborn, aging man.
Arriving at the villa, waiting for Ou Chen in the drawing-room, she had not seen the usually diligent Steward Shen appear. Upon asking, a maid mentioned he had resigned and was packing to leave. She was startled, followed by a wave of quiet sadness. Confirming the location of the steward’s room, she rose and headed there. Summer of Foam III