Chapter 62: Really Going Home This Time

Zhong Yu hadn’t expected Zhong Yu Bai to suddenly show up.

He froze momentarily.

In the silence, Zhong Yu Bai asked again calmly, “Why so quiet? What do you want to know?”

Zhong Yu stared at him, his eyes narrowing with a sharp, cold edge beneath his glasses. “If I ask, would you even tell me?”

Zhong Yu Bai paused, then smiled. “How do you know I wouldn’t?”

Every word he spoke was so profoundly layered, and his gaze was distant, unreadable. Zhong Yu realized that, despite years of growth and newfound courage, he still couldn’t see through this man. His return to the country had turned him into a mere pawn in his enemy’s game.

Zhong Yu Bai was formidable, adept at countering any move. Or maybe he simply saw Zhong Yu’s moves as inconsequential.

Zhong Yu’s deep-seated bitterness curved into a slight sneer. “Probably scheming against me in his head.”

Zhong Yu Bai paused, then looked down at Zhong Yu’s wrist and asked, “Still angry about your hand?”

“Don’t pretend to be the good guy here!” Zhong Yu glared, his eyes tinged red.

Zhong Yu Bai looked back into his eyes and hesitated. Was the redness from hurt feelings? For some reason, it made him want to laugh; a boy who still wore his grievances on his face wasn’t fit to be a worthy opponent.

He remained calm, his tone softening a little. “Go to the West Wing and pass along my regards to your aunt.”

Zhong Yu retorted immediately, “She doesn’t need it.”

“Even if she doesn’t, pass them along anyway.” His words were casual and indifferent.

Zhong Yu’s gaze flickered with sudden realization—Zhong Yu Bai had brought up his mother on purpose. A person with no support, yet bound by attachments in this world, was all too vulnerable.

“Zhong Yu Bai, you…”

Zhong Yu Bai interrupted, dismissing his lack of deference. “If there’s nothing else, go.”

“…Fine. Goodbye!”

Silence soon fell over the house.

Zhong Yu’s leg wasn’t broken, nor did Zhong Yu Bai detain him with any demands. He simply let him go. Returning to his room, Zhong Yu Bai stood by the balcony railing, observing the car parked in the garden and the servant from the West Wing carrying boxes to it.

He knew Zhong Yu had been the one trailing him that day.

Zhong Yu Bai saw him as a small ant—harmless. Yet, just having one more person in the car quickened his heartbeat slightly.

The word “weakness” his father had once spoken was the sharpest threat he knew.

After all, who doesn’t have a weakness? All human entanglements—love that breeds hate, hate that binds one to unrepentant obsessions.

Nearby stood a tall acacia tree.

Zhong Yu Bai’s gaze fell on the treetop. The leaves had begun to wither. Autumn was coming to an end, and soon, this southern land would usher in a long, harsh winter.

Downstairs, young Zhong Danting was practicing the piano. She wasn’t particularly gifted and found it difficult, often begging her teacher for breaks after just a few minutes.

The teacher, concerned, whispered pleadingly, “Just a bit more, Miss. If you play like this, I’ll have nothing to show for my efforts!”

The music was clumsy and awkward, yet Zhong Yu Bai found it rather pleasant. She was playing a piece from a Miyazaki film, the melody that plays when Howl takes Sophie on their aerial walk. Unmistakably familiar.

As he listened, Zhong Yu Bai was pulled back to memories long past.

Years ago, the marriage between Chen Yinglian and Zhong Bingwen was brief, so brief that Zhong Yu Bai’s early memories of the Zhong family were virtually erased.

Twenty years ago, Zhong Lin was in power in Boyang. He was domineering, ruthless in his methods. Chen Yinglian’s life in the Zhong household was one of watching her words and actions, while her husband, Zhong Bingwen, would say over and over, “Just endure it; don’t provoke them. We’ll just live our lives.”

Could she endure it? Of course not.

She wanted to move out.

But Zhong Bingwen retorted, “You have nothing to worry about here—food, clothes, servants at your service. What’s so bad about that?”

His words held a faint discontent towards women who voiced their opinions too much. He wasn’t looking for a wife who would argue or assert herself.

Chen Yinglian, a proud and strong-willed woman, found the Zhong family’s atmosphere unbearable and soon took Zhong Yu Bai and left the country. Right before they left, she stumbled upon Zhong Lin’s safe, uncovering his hidden ledger—a thick stack of evidence of his dark and insatiable greed, exposed before her eyes.

That damning evidence ultimately crushed her life.

Zhong Yu Bai held few memories of the cold Zhong mansion. What he remembered instead was the home he shared with his mother in Xingzhou, with an acacia tree in its courtyard.

They arrived in winter—a season that didn’t exist in Singapore. He had read about beautiful snow in literature, yet experiencing it firsthand was stark, desolate, and hard to bear.

Even though it was foreign to him, he endured.

The acacia tree here was planted the year he returned. He built a home here. But, sadly, the tree wasn’t real, and the home wasn’t real either.

There was no gentle figure seated under the tree, teaching him poetry: “Jane, did you learn today’s poem?”

A small girl would sit on her lap and stammer, “Plowing grain at noon, sweat drips to the soil, sweat drips… sweat drips… um,”

She’d glance around mischievously, “I forgot! I’ll go ask Master!”

She was never embarrassed to forget a line. She’d lift her skirt and twirl off, from the depths of spring, right over to his side.

“What comes after ‘sweat drips to the soil’?” Jane would look up at him, her rosy face pleading.

He’d tease her, “So young, and already cheating?”

With a gentle tug on her cheek, he’d say, “Think it through yourself. Figure it out, and I’ll get you ice cream.”

With ice cream as the reward, the poem became easy to remember.

Recalling this, Zhong Yu Bai smiled a little, looking toward the tree, as if a child really were running to him. He had returned to the Zhong household today to retrieve some things, and running into Zhong Yu had been purely coincidental.

The photos he’d gotten back from Shen Shu were still in the bookshelf.

A photo of him with Ji Zhen Tang, the two of them sitting amid blooming flowers, in a peaceful spring moment just before the rain.

He liked keeping albums in the study. Although the study was shared, he used it often enough that the family tacitly let him claim it. In this household, it wasn’t worth the trouble of upsetting him.

Respectful concessions, clear boundaries.

Yet recently, Zhong Yu Bai sensed that the Zhong family was no longer a safe place.

So he decided to sneak a few valuable items out.

As he gazed at the photograph, he became momentarily lost in thought.

That day, she had asked about his dreams.

Zhong Yu Bai had no answer.

But he recalled that in his youth, he had loved reading. She preferred the works of the Hong Kong writer Yi Shu, while he liked Jin Yong.

He enjoyed bold heroism and the deep, tangled tales of love and family. In his younger days, he dreamed of galloping into the unknown, like the boundless world depicted in martial arts novels, filled with storms and trials.

For a young man, that kind of life was enticing.

Now, of course, he wouldn’t say such things.

He had grown up, no longer filled with the fiery passion of youth, but when she asked him that question, he had briefly thought of those youthful dreams. Reflecting on it, it was actually quite silly, so he hadn’t shared that his dream had been to become a wandering hero from a Jin Yong novel.

The yearning to roam the world often peaks in one’s teenage years.

Afterward, he gradually became someone who understood the world and navigated it under heavy constraints. He had spent long nights watching candles burn low as storms raged outside.

It wasn’t the world he had once imagined.

If he were to talk about dreams now, what would they be?

Perhaps, it would be a life of freedom, buried under the weight of wealth and status.

Zhong Yu Bai carefully tucked away the photograph. Every time he walked out of this house, he felt slightly more at ease.

–

At the beginning of November, the first snow fell on Qingcheng. The southern snow was scattered and thin, not like thick snowflakes but more like a cold rain, without much beauty to it.

Ji Zhen Tang was on her way to a small seminar with her thesis advisor. Shrugging into her coat against the sleet, she spotted a luxury car parked in front of the academic building and paused.

The man who got out looked familiar; she stared for a long moment before calling his name.

“Xiao Gao?”

The same man who once brought her stacks of high-end clothes to try on in her dorm room.

Xiao Gao approached, smartly dressed in a suit and smiling.

“Did Zhong Yu Bai send you?” she asked.

The man nodded. “Let’s go, Miss Ji.”

Ji Zhen Tang blinked. “Where are we going?”

Xiao Gao replied, “Wherever you’re headed, that’s where we’ll go.”

Puzzled, she asked, “You’re going to accompany me to class?”

Xiao Gao made a surprised sound and said, “Mr. Zhong didn’t tell you? I’ll be with you for the next while—for classes, meals, everything. I won’t leave your side.”

“……”

Ji Zhen Tang almost wondered if her ears were playing tricks on her, but when a classmate next to her called out to go upstairs together, she kept her doubts to herself.

Xiao Gao did his job diligently, following her everywhere but maintaining a bit of distance. For instance, he waited outside when she was in class and sat a couple of tables away when she ate, making sure not to disturb her.

It wasn’t until he saw her to her doorstep that he finally left with peace of mind.

Ji Zhen Tang called Zhong Yu Bai and praised him, “The bodyguard you sent is very competent. Come on, tell me—who’s targeting me?”

He simply replied, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

Ji Zhen Tang chuckled, sensing his intent.

Since he didn’t elaborate, she didn’t ask further.

“Anyway, you’ll protect me, right?”

Zhong Yu Bai responded, “It’s my duty.”

At that moment, he stood on the rooftop of Boyang Tower, looking out at the bleak winter landscape while on the phone. Zhong Yu Bai enjoyed standing up high, finding it helped him see farther and plan more strategically. The height of the building, like one’s status, offered perspective.

Ji Zhen Tang had never visited his office, although she’d once asked curiously, “With such a large glass building, does the view from up there look amazing?”

Is it?

Not necessarily.

Boyang’s office building was located near the industrial park where he had signed a partnership with Qing University, not in the bustling city center. Looking into the distance, he saw only construction sites and hazy gray buildings.

Further out, there was Su City, with its solitary Beisi Tower standing abruptly. In overcast or rainy weather, it exuded a solemn aura.

The whole world seemed gray.

Only the tolling bell at the base of the tower, resonating deep within, could awaken a faint awareness—a touch of warmth amid worldly dust.

Fortunately, she hadn’t visited; otherwise, she, too, would have felt the loneliness.

This place had no glamour.

Today there was a bit of fog.

Originally, Zhong Yu Bai had planned to visit Chen Zhang Garden, as his father, Zhong Bingwen, had invited him for a game of chess. Halfway there, he felt a wave of boredom. Previously, accompanying his father for chess or cards was routine—nothing unexpected, and he would attend calmly, free from irritation. But today, he felt particularly weary.

So, he drove to Yudeng Street, with the gift he had prepared for her already in the car.

To avoid slipping, Zhong Yu Bai drove slowly. Before reaching Qingyunfang’s street sign, he passed a Lawson convenience store and caught a glimpse of a girl sitting by the window, enjoying oden.

He reversed his car back a bit.

Ji Zhen Tang was playing on her phone when she felt her ear brushed by the cool bones of his fingers. Shrinking her shoulders, she looked back to see the man in a black coat.

Zhong Yu Bai sat down and placed a luxury handbag on the chair.

Her face was about to light up with joy but froze as she looked at his calm, unwavering gaze. “For me? What’s the occasion?”

Zhong Yu Bai replied, “Every day I love you is a holiday. I wanted to give it, so I bought it.”

Ji Zhen Tang smiled, rubbing her head against his chest. “Ah, how are you so sweet? If you keep talking like this, I’ll be overwhelmed!”

Seeing her warm smile, he couldn’t help but pinch her cheek, chuckling softly.

Ji Zhen Tang glanced at the new gift again. She felt awkward about taking it, yet uncomfortable not to. The bag sat pristinely on the stool between them.

Inappropriately, she remembered how Zhong Heng had thrown a bag for her once.

The more relaxed he’d acted then, the more regret she felt afterward.

After all, it had been a Hermes!

Now, it was the same brand, but a different style. When her fingers brushed against it, she lifted it lightly, feeling a strange pause.

“Thinking of Zhong Heng?” Zhong Yu Bai remarked, breaking her thoughts in one go.

Yet again, he’d read her mind with uncanny accuracy. Ji Zhen Tang cursed inwardly, blinking quickly to hide her fluster.

Zhong Yu Bai looked at her with a subtle expression.

She’d almost forgotten—on the day she’d had that intense argument with Zhong Heng, under the ivy-covered administrative building, someone had been watching quietly from the shadows, taking in the whole scene.

Naturally, he’d also seen Zhong Heng toss that bag away in frustration.

Zhong Yu Bai looked at her and suddenly asked, “Do you still remember what he looked like?”

This question had a rather profound undertone.

But she didn’t quite grasp his intention, so she blurted out, “Isn’t this a—”

Halfway through, she sensed that he didn’t mean it that way and quickly, with a playful grin, raised her hands in surrender. “Forgotten, completely forgotten!”

Zhong Yu Bai held a cup of warm tea, smiling faintly. “You say things but don’t mean them, thinking I’d get jealous?”

She retorted, with feigned grievance, “Mm! You say you’re not the jealous type, but your actions tell the truth. You made sure I couldn’t get out of bed for three whole days and nights.”

He chuckled, a deeper smile forming on his face. The dullness he’d felt on the way here was now dispelled by their exchange. “I’m not that forceful.”

Ji Zhen Tang stuffed a fish ball in her mouth, smiling. “Oh, denying it now, huh? Next time, I’ll make sure to keep evidence, so you have nothing to argue with.”

Zhong Yu Bai took a sip of tea, the scent of jasmine lingering faintly on his lips.

“But back then…” she hesitated, carefully choosing her words. “Didn’t you mind at all? You must’ve known my intentions weren’t exactly pure.”

He replied nonchalantly, “Neither was I entirely pure.”

Ji Zhen Tang looked at him, her smile soft and lingering. After finishing a few more bites, she gestured to the handbag. “So, did you come all this way just to deliver this?”

Zhong Yu Bai mentioned another reason, “I thought I’d stop by and visit your aunt.”

She exclaimed, “Wow, my aunt has become your aunt too now. You say it so naturally.”

He answered her teasing with a casual smile. When she finished eating, they left the Lawson store together. Just as they were walking out, he turned his head slightly and asked, “Where did you get lost?”

Ji Zhen Tang was confused. “What?”

“When you were little.”

She paused, gradually remembering the story she’d told him about getting lost in the snow as a child. Pointing to the Qingyunfang archway at the fork in the road, she said, “Just up there.”

That time, it had been the police who brought her back.

Even though Luotang Pavilion was just within sight, she couldn’t give her address or recognize the way, so she’d stood there, barely a hundred meters from home, waiting dazedly for quite a while.

Zhong Yu Bai took out some precious fabric meant to win over parents from the car. He held the elegantly packaged gift box in one hand and reached out with the other to pull her into the dim light of the falling snow.

“Let’s go.”

No one else would cherish her every word as deeply as he did.

“You still… remember,” Ji Zhen Tang said with a smile that barely masked the tears welling up.

Zhong Yu Bai replied, “I remember because you remember.”

Her small hand, too cold, was completely wrapped in his warm palm, creating an airtight seal. With his hand covering hers, Ji Zhen Tang felt warmth spreading to her heart.

He said, “Because the eight-year-old you has always remembered.”

The snowflakes grew heavier, brushing against her ears with a soft touch.

Ji Zhen Tang’s eyelashes were damp, unsure if it was tears or snow. She raised her eyelids to look at him seriously.

It was that isolated and helpless child, waiting for rescue in the snow, looking at him with glistening autumn eyes, full of longing. This time, they were not walking into the snowstorm; they were traversing it. Following his footsteps, she stepped out of her scarred childhood.

He hoped her pain would be put to rest and promised that she would no longer lose her way.

“Little Tang,” Zhong Yu Bai looked down at her, his gaze gentle, as if he was truly seeing that lost child. Ruffling her hair, he smiled softly and said, “This time, we’re really going home.”

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