Mrs. Zhou smiled.
Just then, Uncle Hu arrived with the security team in the nick of time, allowing Qiqi to make a clean getaway. Uncle Hu personally escorted her all the way to the entrance of the building, hailed a taxi for her, and insisted on paying the fare (Qiqi had wanted to decline, but she really had no money left in her bag). Before parting, they agreed at the front of the car to visit the mute brother in a few days, and only then did Uncle Hu leave.
Sitting in the taxi, Qiqi let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t gone far when her phone rang—it was Zhuang Ruotong calling. “Qiqi, are you okay?”
Her voice was tense and hoarse, as if she’d just been crying.
Qiqi quickly reassured her: “I’m fine, I’m fine. They didn’t do anything to me. But your camera and photos are ruined.”
Earlier, she had used Zhuang Ruotong’s camera to lure Xia Liu away because she knew that if she fell into his hands and he couldn’t get the incriminating photos, he wouldn’t let her off easily—since he’d already spotted the camera when Zhuang Ruotong was exposed.
But they had no idea that Zhuang Ruotong’s bag also contained a camcorder with a recording in it.
Zhuang Ruotong let out a huge sigh of relief upon hearing this. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. The camera and stuff are just floating clouds.”
Qiqi told Zhuang Ruotong not to touch the recording for now and to let her plan things out carefully—Director Qian’s misdeeds needed to be exposed, Xia Liu had to be taken down, Qin Chen’s mother needed protection, and her senior brother’s illness had to be cured… But the most urgent thing right now was to hurry back and return the jade pendant to Rong Yi—that guy’s soul was still trapped in the Moon’s Pull.
Zhuang Ruotong offered to drive over to pick her up, but Qiqi refused, not wanting her to show her face in the area again—she had just come out of the building, and Xia Liu might still be lurking in some dark corner, spying on her. Better not let Zhuang Ruotong be seen.
When she got home, the sky wasn’t fully dark yet. Checking the time, she still had plenty of time before the twelve-hour deadline, and Qiqi finally relaxed.
She opened the courtyard gate and headed straight for the study. But as she reached the window, she stopped in her tracks—through the clean, bright glass, she saw Rong Yi sitting in an old-fashioned rocking chair by the window. His eyes were closed, as if asleep, his expression serene. On his face, which shimmered like cold jade, his long, thick lashes trembled gently against his eyelids, like butterfly wings softly fluttering. His thin, red lips were slightly pursed, like a peach blossom adorned with dewdrops. He looked utterly still, clean and soft, like an innocent child.
But the setting sun slanted in, casting a warm, faint golden glow over everything in the room. He, along with the old rocking chair and the wooden window frame, formed a scene that resembled an ancient, hazy painting from a bygone era.
Why did his appearance stir a sense of melancholy?
Rong Yi, oh Rong Yi, do you harbor an untold past within you?
At that moment, standing by the window, gazing at Rong Yi’s pure and beautiful face, Qiqi felt a sadness rise within her, like the setting sun.
Yet, she had only paused for a moment when Rong Yi, as if sensing something, suddenly opened his eyes. In that first instant of waking, his expression was still dazed, as if he didn’t know where he was. The next second, he saw Qiqi, and a bright, gentle smile immediately lit up his eyes. “You’re back.”
Qiqi’s mood softened with his smile. She strode into the study and asked with concern, “Why did you get up? Why aren’t you lying in bed?”