Chapter 95

Chapter 95: Letter to My Wife (3)

Past the long corridor was the main hall of Run Yuan, and the main hall connected to two side rooms.

The sunlight seemed brighter here, driving away that mothball-like smell.

It felt a little less stifling.

Jiang Shi Yue walked into the main hall and took a look around. After the Cheng Family sold Run Yuan, they had moved out the appliances and such, but the old furniture was left exactly as it was.

But it was not a free bonus. Fu Qing Han must have paid a lot extra after buying this Ancestral Residence.

Jiang Shi Yue’s hand brushed over a folding screen. It was carved with patterns of blessings, longevity, and good fortune, yet it gave her a strange illusion, as if it would shatter the moment she touched it.

The instant she made contact, Jiang Shi Yue pulled her hand back and turned to Fu Qing Han behind her. “Little Fu, why did you buy this old residence?”

Fu Qing Han’s expression stayed bland as he replied calmly, “It was just a wish from a deceased elder in the family.”

Jiang Shi Yue made a thoughtful “Oh,” and stopped talking. She crossed the main hall and went straight into a courtyard.

Sunlight spilled down softly, chasing away the rotten smell in the air.

This courtyard was even more spacious, linking several side rooms. Jiang Shi Yue walked straight to the one closest to her.

Fu Qing Han did not follow her in. His gaze only drifted upward along the four-sided courtyard to the sky.

The patch of sky was cut into a perfect square too. Maybe, many years ago, someone had looked out like this as well, staring at the four-cornered heavens beyond the residence.

White clouds turned into grey dogs – in the blink of an eye.

Fu Qing Han looked unreadable, without a trace of emotion. The clear blue sky reflected in his eyes and slowly blended into the depths of his gaze, and no one knew what he was thinking.

He only said flatly, “Miss Jiang, make yourself at home.”

Jiang Shi Yue nodded and went in. It was a bedroom, with a traditional mortise-and-tenon canopy bed inside, rosewood inlaid with zitan, carved with delicate chi-dragon patterns. It was antique and elegant, and looked as old as the room itself. Two layers of bed curtains were gathered into a half-moon shape, thick silk dulled by time.

Jiang Shi Yue swept her gaze around. Through the hollowed window lattice beside her, she could see hazy tree shadows swaying faintly.

Everything grew unusually quiet.

But at that moment, she suddenly heard slow footsteps behind her.

Creak, creak – the sound was painfully clear, and yet one step was heavy while the next was light.

Then the footsteps stopped behind her.

Whoever it was stood there silently, as if waiting for her to turn around.

Jiang Shi Yue turned unhurriedly, her gaze dropping.

She saw a pair of feet. One wore an Embroidered Shoe made of deep-blue satin, with an exquisite twin lotus embroidered on the toe – dark green leaves, curling stamens.

The other foot was bare on the floor, toenails rounded with a glossy pink tint, but the skin gleamed with a wet sheen.

White clouds turned into grey dogs – in the blink of an eye.

When Jiang Shi Yue lifted her eyes, she suddenly found herself standing alone in front of a carved wooden door.

Just a moment ago, she had been in that bedroom.

She looked at the blue tiles and white walls ahead. However you looked at it, this place had the air of a wealthy household.

When she looked up, a wooden plaque hung above the door – “Cheng Manor” – adding an even more imposing grandeur to the deep residence.

Jiang Shi Yue studied it for a while, then let out a long sigh, because the building in front of her was clearly not Run Yuan.

But perhaps it was Run Yuan from a hundred years ago.