Chapter 116: Chapter 116

The memorial service doesn’t require invitations. Any family that has dealings with the Pei Family will naturally come to offer condolences when they hear the news.

The Fu Family has always emphasized etiquette, so naturally, they wouldn’t fall behind in this aspect. Currently, the person who is managing the affairs at home is Fu Jichen, and the elder has already instructed him to go over and represent the Fu Family.

Fu Jichen returned to his villa at Yunding Palace from the old house, it was already past eight in the evening.

Cheng Jin was cleaning in the living room; seeing him return, she took a couple of steps forward: "Sir, you’re back."

"Has she eaten dinner?" Fu Jichen changed into indoor slippers and glanced upstairs.

"She ate already." Cheng Jin replied, pondered for a moment, and asked him, "Have you eaten, sir? If not, I’ll go to the kitchen to prepare something. We have ingredients, and it won’t be a trouble."

Fu Jichen was busy at the company and went to the old house at around seven; by then, dinner time over there had passed, so he hadn’t eaten yet.

"Just make something simple," he said, rubbing his brow, his whole aura exuding fatigue.

"Alright, please wait." Cheng Jin put down the cloth and headed to the kitchen.

Fu Jichen loosened his tie, walked into the elevator, quickly reached the third floor, and as he stepped out, he heard a cello playing. It was Shen Jianian playing.

The tune was slow, low, and distant.

If the cello piece could reflect a person’s mindset, he thought he could hear it, this was expressing sorrow.

Fu Jichen took off his jacket, draped it over his arm, and walked steadily into Shen Jianian’s room. She was wearing a light pink sweater and white loose pants, as delicate as a flower bud newly blooming on a branch. Her black hair was all tied up, head slightly bowed, her nape gleaming white, illuminated like jade under the light.

The piece was nearing its end, and Shen Jianian suddenly noticed the tall figure; the sound stopped abruptly, the bow suspended in her hand: "When did you come back?"

Fu Jichen walked over gracefully, tossed his suit onto the bed: "Just arrived. Why did you stop playing?"

Shen Jianian’s shoulders slumped, her small face looking dejected. Her involuntary coquettishness resembled a child being kept after class to finish homework, complaining but helpless.

This was indeed the case.

She said, looking distressed: "I played this piece poorly, both in rhythm and emotion. My teacher assigned it as homework, asking me to complete it properly, and he wants to check it tomorrow."

Fu Jichen smiled slightly, brushing aside a lock of stray hair from her forehead, casually asking: "Is there a punishment if you can’t finish it?"

"Yes," Shen Jianian said, "I have to clean the music room, wipe all the instruments until they’re spotless; it sounds like a big job."

He had noticed her melancholy over the past few days, unable to console her, and seeing her so focused on practicing cello, he hesitated to tell her about Pei Che’s funeral.

At this moment, Cheng Jin knocked on the door but didn’t enter; her voice came from outside: "Sir, dinner is ready. Do you want to eat downstairs in the dining room or should I bring it up?"

"You haven’t eaten dinner?" Shen Jianian asked in surprise.

"Mm, do you want to join me?" Remembering Cheng Jin was still waiting outside, Fu Jichen turned towards her and said, "I’ll go down later; you go ahead."

Cheng Jin heard the latter sentence directed at her, acknowledged, and went downstairs.

Shen Jianian put away the cello, instinctively rubbed her wrist: "I’ll join you. After eating, I’ll come back up to practice a few more times."

Fu Jichen’s eyes softened, he held her hand, pulling her close, his thumb pressing on her wrist: "Is practicing cello tiring?"

"It’s okay, it’s just that my hand feels a bit sore after playing for a long time."

Since it’s something she loves, no matter how tired, she doesn’t feel it’s hard. Shen Jianian enjoys practicing the cello every day.

The two arrived at the dining room. Cheng Jin hadn’t called the chef; her culinary skills were good, and she quickly stir-fried a few homemade dishes with available ingredients.

Shen Jianian wasn’t very hungry; mostly, she was there to accompany him, holding chopsticks, occasionally picking at food.

When they were almost done, Fu Jichen poured a glass of plain water, looking at the girl across from him, her eyes downcast, picking out scallions. He pondered briefly before saying: "The day after tomorrow at the Pei Family’s funeral, if you want to go, I can take you."

He used to care a lot about Pei Che, this person, a childhood friend who was flawless, even across hatred, even when Shen Jianian repeatedly pushed him away, he still missed her, left the family for her, drank at night.

He really disliked others having romantic feelings towards his beloved.

But now, he wouldn’t hold grudges against a dead man.

The scallion Shen Jianian held with chopsticks fell into the bowl; her eyes lingered on Fu Jichen’s face for a few seconds, her expression blank, as if unable to understand his words, or perhaps she understood but was unwilling to believe.

"Pei Che’s funeral." Fu Jichen took a sip of water, still mentioning that name.

Shen Jianian’s eyes turned red instantly; she didn’t want him to see her losing composure. She pushed her chair aside, stood up in a panic: "I’m going upstairs to practice; you eat slowly."

Fu Jichen remained seated, his gaze followed her figure to the stairs; her steps were shaky, several times nearly falling. His eyes deepened, watching until that silhouette vanished.

Fu Jichen’s hand holding the water cup showed tense veins, knuckles turning white.

At that moment, he realized that Pei Che’s death might not be the end; it’s a piece of moonlight engraved in Shen Jianian’s heart.

No matter how time flows, there’s always a place in her heart for him, impossible to be entirely occupied by another.

Shen Jianian staggered back to her room, leaned against the door, unable to move an inch further, letting herself slide down to sit on the floor.

Fu Jichen’s words echoed in her ears, Pei Che’s funeral...

So, did they find his remains, or did the Pei Family, after exhaustive searching, confirm he had died?

On the day of the Pei Family’s funeral, a fine drizzle began; Beicheng’s sky was shrouded in clouds, the wind gentle, the rain slanting, cold and chilling.

Though they say spring rain is precious as oil, and it brings joy to farmers for the planting season, everyone present had solemn faces, or were filled with grief and sorrow.

When Fu Jichen got out of the car, the driver opened a long-handled black umbrella, the umbrella slightly tilted to cover above the car door. Fu Jichen buttoned his suit, turned his gaze towards the car interior.

Shen Jianian stepped out, the next moment her hand was held by him, she used the strength of his hand to get off the car.

She wore a long black wool coat, with black jeans showing beneath; her hair was loose. As the wind blew, strands of hair brushed against her fair face, due to poor complexion, she appeared fragile and delicate.

Fu Jichen didn’t let go of the tender hand, leading her into the spiritual hall ahead.

Pei Che’s remains weren’t found, no urn was present, just a black and white photo in a wooden frame. Shen Jianian recognized it as his high school ID photo.

Compared to now, except for his youthful eyebrows and eyes, not much had changed.

He was inherently such a clean and handsome person; possibly at thirty, he’d look just . Sadly, she won’t see it.

Shen Jianian tried hard to endure, not letting herself cry.

Fu Jichen discreetly squeezed her fingers, releasing her temporarily, and walked alone to Pei Fengnan and his wife, like the other guests, to say: "Condolences."

Pei Fengnan’s hair was more than half white, face lined with deep wrinkles, eyes numbly thanking him: "The hotel has light wine prepared; Mr. Fu, do come over for a drink when you’re done."

Fu Jichen glanced back at the figure not far behind him; she likely wouldn’t want to stay here, so he found a reason to politely refuse.

Pei Fengnan said nothing further, supporting his slightly swaying wife.

Among the crowd, Zhou Ruo caught sight of a familiar face, her vacant pupils suddenly constricting, shaking off her husband’s hand, she staggered toward that person.

Shen Jianian watched the picture, caught off guard by a slap, hearing a ringing in her ears. She covered her burning face, slowly turning to meet a face filled with grief and anger.

Zhou Ruo, face full of tears, pointed at her and cursed: "You still have the face to come! You damn wretch, it’s all your fault, you caused Ah Che’s demise! Give me back my son!"