The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

Shen Qingyao ultimately did not accept the answer.

She gathered her scarf, which had been disheveled by the wind, and as she stood up, a dull, tingling pain shot through her knee.

The stone bench still bore traces of her body heat, which were quickly swept away by the night wind, leaving it as cold as if no one had ever sat on it.

She didn't know how she got back to that familiar alley.

The bluestone path was bathed in moonlight, turning it white. Stepping on it felt like stepping on a thin sheet of ice, with each step accompanied by a tremor.

Shen Qingyao stood at her door, her fingertips resting on the cold door. She paused, then gently knocked.

The house was quiet, without a sound. Could it be that her parents were worried about her and went out to look for her?

She took out her phone, her fingertips icy cold, and dialed her mother's number.

The phone rang twice before being answered. The sounds of shuffling mahjong tiles and laughter came from the other end. The mother's voice was impatient: "Yaoyao, where have you been? Your dad and I are at the mahjong parlor..."

"I can't get into the house," Shen Qingyao interrupted her, her voice unusually calm, without a trace of emotion.

"There's a key under the floor mat," the mother said casually, then paused, as if remembering something, "Oh, right, remember to transfer the money for your brother's down jacket, don't forget..."

Shen Qingyao hung up the phone before she could finish speaking.

It turns out they had never even contacted her.

Standing in the empty living room, Shen Qingyao suddenly found it somewhat ridiculous.

She was still heartbroken by their words, "I shouldn't have given birth to you," in the cold wind of the park, and she was still shedding tears for the mother who had once protected her. But what about them?

They didn't even bother to ask whether she cried, got cold, or had anywhere to go after she ran away.

The moment the phone screen went dark, she suddenly laughed. The laughter was soft, but it carried a chilling coldness.

What is it that she is still longing for?

Those warm memories have long since become expired candy wrappers, filled only with bitter residue.

It turns out that people's memories can be embellished by themselves.

She turned around, went into the room, and pulled the handle of her suitcase.

The moment my fingertips touched the cold metal, the last bit of hesitation in my heart shattered completely.

She wanted to escape this place.

Immediately, right away.

This home was no longer her haven; it was merely a cage that imprisoned her.

She pulled her suitcase, walked out of the house step by step, and gently closed the door behind her.

The latch clicked shut very softly, yet it sounded as if something had been severed cleanly and decisively.

The rain was fine and dense, weaving a gray, misty net that enveloped the neighborhood at dusk.

Shen Qingyao's suitcase wheels rolled over the wet stone pavement, making a dull gurgling sound that mingled with the rustling of raindrops on the sycamore trees.

She didn't turn around or slow down; her cashmere coat was covered in water droplets, but it was still warm inside.

However, raindrops slid down her hair from her collar into her neck and back, and a chill crept up her bones inch by inch.

The wetness on my face was of indistinct origin; rainwater mixed with something warm slid down from the corners of my eyes, only to be covered by new raindrops in an instant.

She walked with her head down until an extremely bright beam of light pierced through the rain and landed steadily in front of her, illuminating every detail of the rain and mist around her.

The low hum of the engine gradually faded away, and the sound of the car door being pushed open came through the rain curtain, causing Shen Qingyao to stop in her tracks.

She looked up and saw Meng Jiangyu getting out of the Maybach with a black umbrella. The hem of his dark cashmere coat was lifted by the wind, but he didn't seem to notice. He took quick steps with his long legs, tilting the umbrella so that most of it was given to the rain beside him, letting the raindrops fall on his shoulders.

When he ran to her, he brought with him a gust of wind carrying the scent of rain.

Before Shen Qingyao could react, she was pulled into a broad and warm embrace.

He casually held the umbrella over their heads, shielding them from the rain. His scent of pineapple mixed with a faint smell of tobacco enveloped her in a domineering yet considerate way.

The force was so tight it felt like it was trying to knead her into her very bones. Shen Qingyao was completely overwhelmed by this sudden warmth.

Shen Qingyao's tears flowed uncontrollably, like pearls from a broken string.

"It's too cold outside, let's get in the car first." Meng Jiangyu put his arm around her shoulder and walked towards the car.

Shen Qingyao nodded.

He opened the car door for her; the passenger seat was spacious and the heating was on full blast.

Meng Jiangyu put his suitcase in the trunk of the car, then bent down and sat down. The sound of closing the car door was very soft, shutting out the rain and noise outside.

He didn't rush to speak, but instead helped her take off her coat and tossed it into the back seat. He then took off his own cashmere coat and carefully wrapped it around her, instantly enveloping Shen Qingyao in warmth.

He ran his fingertips through her wet hair and took out a towel to dry her.

Meng Jiangyu remained silent, quietly keeping the injured Shen Qingyao company.

The carriage was so quiet that you could hear the raindrops hitting the windows. Shen Qingyao lowered her eyes and looked at her hands curled up in the blanket, her knuckles turning cold and white.

She could feel the man's gaze beside her, heavy and fixed on her.

Shen Qingyao didn't want to speak, tears streaming down her face as she stared blankly at the rain outside the window.

After a while, Shen Qingyao spoke up, "This winter is really cold."

A warm, large hand covered her head, the movement gentle and soothing, softly stroking her hair.

"There's heating at home." His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a hint of heartache that was hard to detect.

Shen Qingyao's eyelashes trembled, but she didn't answer. She just buried her face even deeper, but her nose involuntarily stung.

The cashmere coat carried a faint scent of cedar, just like the scent on his body.

Meng Jiangyu turned up the car heater by two degrees. "Baby, it's too late. How about I take you to a hotel to sleep?"

"Wait a little longer." Shen Qingyao slowly closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face.

Around one o'clock in the morning, the rain stopped, and the night was as dark as thick ink, blurring the entire city until only a few scattered lights remained.

The wind outside the car window carried the chill of early winter, slapping against the glass and condensing into a thin layer of fog.

Shen Qingyao leaned back in the passenger seat and fell asleep at some point.

Her profile was pressed against the back of the passenger seat, her bangs resting on her long eyelashes.

Her breathing was light and shallow, and the cashmere coat on her shoulders rippled with gentle, even movements.

Meng Jiangyu parked his car in a parking space directly opposite the entrance of the residential area.

She said, "Let's wait a little longer."

What he was waiting for didn't need to be said; Meng Jiangyu understood.

So he stayed with her and waited.

The soft glow of the watch face reflected on his sharply defined profile, softening his usual fierceness.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her peaceful sleeping face, occasionally raising his hand to brush away the stray hairs that fell across her forehead.

Time slipped by, like the silent shadows of trees outside the car window, stretching and shrinking imperceptibly.