Chapter 179: Chapter 179

At 4:35 PM, the plane landed at Beicheng Airport.

In the airport parking lot, there was a Maybach parked, the same one Qu Mo drove to pick up Fu Jichen the evening he returned from Switzerland. Later, when they flew to Jiang City, the car was left there.

It’s been windy in Beicheng lately, leaving a layer of dust on the car body.

As they were nearing Yunding Palace, Fu Jichen, who had been resting with his eyes closed in the back seat, opened them and looked out the side window at the familiar scenery, feeling that everything had changed.

There was no longer someone at home waiting for him, someone who would look at him with gentle eyes when he opened the door and came in, giving him a smile.

Fu Jichen closed his eyes again, as if unwilling to face reality, his hand resting on the inner pocket of his suit, where a wallet held her photo.

The gate of the villa’s fence opened, and the Maybach slowed down as it drove in, stopping under the porch.

The sunset was beautiful, casting its light over the vibrant floral patches in the front yard, like a vivid oil painting.

Fu Jichen got out of the car, holding not luggage, but Shen Jianian’s handbag. He opened the door and swapped his shoes for slippers at the entrance, heading inside.

Qu Mo followed behind him silently, carrying the silver suitcase he took on his trip, placing it in the living room. With nothing else required of him, he said, "Mr. Chen, I’ll take my leave now."

Fu Jichen stood by the sofa and nodded to him.

Qu Mo turned and left, intending to close the door gently, but a gust of wind blew in, slamming the door shut with a "bang".

Cheng Jin hadn’t been informed of Fu Jichen’s return. Hearing the door sound, she came out of her room and, upon seeing Fu Jichen’s gaunt figure, her eyes instantly reddened, "Sir..."

Her compressed lips quivered slightly, her voice choked as she said, "It’s my fault for not taking good care of Miss Jianian."

She had already learned from Xiao Zheng that over a week ago, the sir returned to Beicheng, followed by a trip to Jiang City with no news coming back for several days. She was very worried but feared calling would add more troubles for him, so she waited patiently at home, repeatedly asking Xiao Zheng about Jianian’s whereabouts. Xiao Zheng had contacted Qu Mo and learned that Jianian had died in a car accident, and that her body still hadn’t been found, with the sir severely affected and bedridden from illness, leaving Cheng Jin utterly shocked.

She kept confirming with Xiao Zheng whether there had been a mistake, wondering how Jianian could have possibly been in a car accident.

Xiao Zheng knew she and Shen Jianian were close, though they were master and servant, they had grown familial affection during the time they spent together. So he explained in detail that it was a heavy truck that hit a taxi, causing it to flip into the river. Shen Jianian happened to be in that taxi.

The firefighters arrived at the scene and only rescued the driver and another female passenger from the car. The rear car door was crushed, so it’s possible Shen Jianian was swept away by the water and not saved in time.

Cheng Jin, at that time, clung to her mobile with one hand, crying uncontrollably with her other covering her mouth. She had never expected that the news she saw while cleaning that morning would relate to someone she knew.

Jianian was in that car!

Seeing Fu Jichen at this moment, especially seeing his emaciated, haggard appearance with eyes like frosted glass devoid of warmth, made Cheng Jin struggle to control her emotions once again.

Wiping her tears, she realized that the sir, given his deep affection for Jianian, must be even more heartbroken than anyone else.

"It’s not your fault, you don’t need to blame yourself." With these words, Fu Jichen went straight upstairs, leaving the suitcase in the living room unattended.

The elevator reached the third floor, and Fu Jichen stepped out, heading first to Shen Jianian’s room.

Every scene and object was just as they were when she left, unchanged. A few books she left on the bedside table were neatly stacked; a blanket she used as a shawl was folded into a square on the sofa; a ceramic cup she had used was upturned on the tray on the coffee table; bottles and jars for her skincare and makeup were arrayed on the vanity, one of the acrylic boxes holding over a dozen lipsticks.

Fu Jichen set down the handbag, strolling to the vanity, pulling open a drawer to find the jewelry box inside, containing rings, earrings, necklaces, and hairpins.

He still couldn’t understand why she left.

Some things went unnoticed at the time, but now, in hindsight, there were clues everywhere.

That night at the airport when they parted, she had already prepared to leave. Her eyes, filled with reluctance, her clingy gestures, and the kiss she initiated were all signs of farewell.

If only he had questioned the unusual feelings he had then. If he had realized it at the time, he would have done anything to get off that plane to Switzerland and hold onto her hand.

Fu Jichen closed the drawer and arrived at the walk-in closet.

All of the clothes she wore had been packed away into storage boxes, while those without tags were still hanging in the closet. There, at the bottom, lay a familiar wooden box.

He opened the lid with his hands, revealing the custom-made qipao that Jianian had worn only once. It was stained by an unruly child at the old house, cleaned at a shop, and then stored in this box.

Jianian said, rather than wearing it, she wanted to keep it as a piece of art.

At that time, he embraced her with a smile on his lips, saying that if she liked, she could have more made. The qipao shop was right there, and they could choose fabrics anytime.

Shen Jianian smiled without saying anything.

For Fu Jichen, these memories were as sweet as they were tormenting.

He closed the cabinet door, turned around, and walked out.

His bedroom next door was also filled with traces of Shen Jianian’s presence. Looking at the dark bed, what came to his mind was not some intimate image, but rather her sitting on the bed, holding a round tin and eating cookies. It was around two in the morning, she was hungry but didn’t want to wake the chef for a midnight snack, so she ate cookies to fill her stomach...

Thinking of her scattering cookie crumbs on his sheets, with a clueless and innocent expression, Fu Jichen couldn’t help but chuckle. But as he laughed, the smile faded, replaced by an endless sadness.

That was a long time ago, back at the Rose Manor in Yicheng. The reason he thought of it was that this bed was the same model as the one in Rose Manor.

His gaze suddenly caught something, and Fu Jichen’s eyes narrowed as he strode over to see what was on the table.

It was a piece of fine jade.

If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the one he had once gifted to Jianian, carved into the shape of two lotus root segments, just right to fit in the hand. Underneath it was a sheet of paper the size of a bookmark, styled to look old and yellowed, with some writing on it.

Fu Jichen picked up the jade handle and saw four neat and graceful words: "Perfect Match."

There was no need to think much about who left this jade and note.

That little heartless one left without a word, leaving this "perfect match" behind. Didn’t Lu Yanzhi say she liked him? He had also felt her feelings for him.

If she liked him, why did she leave?

Having left him, with whom did she want to be?

If at this moment she were standing here, he would surely scold her to tears. This is not the time to be soft-hearted. She had relied on his affection, no longer feared him, and left without even a word.

Thinking about this, Fu Jichen slowly tightened his grip on the jade lotus root, and his eyes turned red and hot, as the aftershocks of the collapsed ruins in his heart slowly destroyed the last of his strength.

He held onto the edge of the table, lowering his head, while dark water stains spread over the paper on the table.

Downstairs, the chef was cooking, and Cheng Jin occasionally glanced at the elevator. Sir was probably not in the mood to eat. If she went up to call him, he might not listen to her and could even be annoyed.

Cheng Jin sighed, feeling troubled.

Even without an appetite, one must take care of one’s body, eat something, life must go on for the living. But these were words she only dared to think silently, unable to say them out loud.

Just then, the video doorbell at the entrance rang. Cheng Jin pressed the answer button, and a beautiful and graceful face appeared on the screen, her hair styled in an updo, wearing a V-neck cream satin dress, with a light gray shawl over it.

Cheng Jin recognized her as her master’s mother, Mrs. Wei Ronghua.

With a faint smile on her face, Wei Ronghua said, "Please open the door for me."

Her tone was not particularly polite. Coming to her own son’s place and having to ask for permission from an outsider, it would be laughable if spoken of, and she felt uneasy about it, though she didn’t show it on her face.

Cheng Jin hurriedly called the gatekeeper to let her in, then took out a new pair of slippers from the shoe cabinet, placing them on the mat inside the door, before opening the door to greet her.

Wei Ronghua, carrying a deep purple handbag at her elbow, walked through the gate in high heels, observing the surroundings, not as quiet and desolate as she thought, instead lush with flowers and pleasing to the eye.

Clearly, someone was taking care of the place.

She knew her son didn’t like these scenes; upon hearing that Shen Jianian was staying here, it made sense that it was her doing.

If Wei Ronghua had seen Rose Manor in Yicheng, she might have thought she didn’t understand Fu Jichen well enough.