She Kept Holding the Knife

The Xi Family's ancestral hall was draped in white silk.

The smell of incense ash filled the air.

The ritual masters chanted Buddhist verses with their eyes half-lowered, their voices drifting fitfully through the air.

The black-clad mourners filling the hall stood like silent shadows. Candles flickered before the memorial, casting every face into shifting light and darkness.

Representing the Xi Family's grandchildren, Xi Jin stood before the memorial with three sticks of incense in his hands.

By custom,

it should have been the eldest grandson's duty.

The "eldest grandson" standing behind him, Xi Hao, was the son of Xi Jin's second uncle and a few years older than Xi Jin. But as an adopted son, his claim lacked legitimacy.

On top of that, the old man's testament stated:

Xi Jin was the next-generation heir to the group.

The relatives and friends who turned with the wind naturally supported Xi Jin in offering incense to the old man as the grandchildren's representative.

Xi Jin lowered his eyes to the photograph on the memorial tablet, knelt, and bowed three times.

Jiang Yuexi stood in the back as an observer, watching Xi Jin's upright figure from behind.

It seemed he still didn't know that Nan Xingyu was about to leave the country.

After the ceremony in the mourning hall ended,

the relatives headed to the lounge.

Xi Jin brought up the rear. He had just taken out his phone to message Nan Xingyu when someone blocked his path.

It was his second uncle, Xi Zhan.

"Tell me, how is it such a coincidence every single time?"

Xi Zhan's voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for several relatives nearby to hear.

He glanced toward the mourning hall, then looked pointedly at Xi Jin.

"The old man had a heart attack as soon as you came back. How is it such a coincidence that you were there when they both breathed their last? This scene feels awfully familiar, doesn't it?"

At those words,

Xi Jin clenched the hand in his pocket.

Xi Kun, who had been walking ahead, stopped and turned around.

With a look, he instructed his assistant to escort the relatives to the lounge.

The onlookers eager for gossip had no choice but to stop listening and leave.

Xi Zhan had brought up Xi Song again.

That was a hurdle Xi Jin's family could never get over in this lifetime.

Not a ripple showed on Xi Jin's face. After a moment, his lips curved, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Second uncle, who knows? Maybe next time, when you're about to breathe your last, I'll be the one keeping watch over you too. Then you'll know whether it's a coincidence."

"..."

Xi Zhan shot him an angry, icy look. "Xi Jin, don't think that becoming the group's CEO gives you the right to disrespect your elders. If you really become the heir, are you going to strut around the Xi Family like you own the place?"

"You know I'll be the group's heir one day,"

Xi Jin said with a soft chuckle. "Yet you still dare provoke me. Aren't you afraid your twilight years will be miserable, second uncle?"

A naked threat.

"You!"

Xi Zhan pointed at him, then turned to Xi Kun, who had just walked over.

"Big brother, look at that fine son of yours. He killed Xiao Song, and now he's killed Dad too. Sister-in-law was absolutely right—he's a devil reincarnated, come to collect a debt from our family!"

The words "Xiao Song" were like a sledgehammer,

striking Xi Kun's heart.

Whenever anyone mentioned Xiao Song, it was as though he were dragged back to that scene he didn't want to remember.

Xiao Song's oxygen tube had been pulled out.

It had been clenched in Xi Jin's fist.

He didn't respond to Xi Zhan's words. He simply said,

"Dad's will clearly states that Xi Jin is the next-generation heir. The board has no objections, so don't hold a grudge over it. That child of yours... no matter how capable he is, he's still adopted."

Xi Jin gave Xi Kun a distant look.

It felt as though something were lodged in his heart.

Xi Kun never defended him in public over what had happened back then, because in Xi Kun's heart, Xi Song's death was his doing.

Xi Jin wanted to laugh,

but his lips felt stiff.

Xi Zhan grumbled a few more words, then angrily swept his sleeves and left.

The space before the mourning hall fell quiet.

Only the sound of the flickering candles remained.

Only then did Xi Jin look at Xi Kun, a hint of jest in his voice. "Dad, since you think I killed my brother, do you think... I might have killed Grandpa too?"

He was actually waiting for a denial.

Even if it was only "I don't believe it."

"You didn't know beforehand that Grandpa's will named you the group's future heir. Grandpa suddenly wanted to change his will, and nobody knew what he wanted to change."

Xi Kun looked at him.

"If you'd known in advance what your grandpa's will said, and then he wanted to change it, perhaps you would have done it."

Xi Jin laughed.

It was a mocking laugh.

From beginning to end, no one had believed him.

In their eyes, he was someone who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Back then, he had killed his own brother with his own hands to win his parents' love.

Now, for the position of the group's heir, he had entertained the thought of murdering a relative again.

He was a devil through and through.

Without a shred of humanity.

"Dad, you really do know me."

Xi Jin smiled coldly, his eyes full of menace.

Nan Xingyu never received Xi Jin's call. Eventually, unable to hold out any longer, she fell asleep.

She had only been asleep a little while when a nightmare startled her awake.

In the dream, Xi Jin lay on the ground, covered in blood, reaching out to her and calling "Xiaoyu" over and over.

She wanted to run to him, but she couldn't make her legs move.

The room was frighteningly quiet.

She pressed a hand to her wildly beating heart and stared at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

Her mind was filled with the image of Xi Jin lying in a pool of blood.

After that, she couldn't get back to sleep.

Unable to resist any longer, she called Xi Jin.

The phone rang for a long time.

At the very last second, the call finally connected.

"Baby."

On the other end, he sounded as though he had just woken up, his voice tinged with fatigue as it came through the line.

Hearing his voice,

Nan Xingyu felt her restless heart slowly settle down.

"What's wrong?"

When she didn't speak for a while, Xi Jin said, "Calling me at this hour—did you miss me?"

Nan Xingyu burrowed under the covers with a rustle.

"No, I didn't. I called by accident."

A soft chuckle came from the other end.

Low and magnetic.

"How could you be so careless?"

Nan Xingyu pressed her lips together. After a moment's hesitation, she asked cautiously, "Xi Jin, are you all right?"

"What could be wrong with me?"

Xi Jin said, "I'm keeping vigil in the mourning hall. I just dozed off for a bit."

"Oh, then I'll hang up."

"Wait."

"What is it?"

"I miss you a little."

"..."

Nan Xingyu rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. "It's late. I'm going to sleep."

"Come to Jingzhou tomorrow."

Xi Jin said, "Keep me company."

"..."

Nan Xingyu thought that since his grandpa had just died, he surely wouldn't drag her abroad to register their marriage. After a long pause, she answered, "Okay."

After hanging up,

Xi Jin, sitting before the mourning hall, rubbed the aching spot between his brows. He looked up and saw someone standing not far away.

It was his mother.

Hua Jinfang.

They hadn't seen each other in three or four years.

The woman wore a black formal skirt suit, her hair combed impeccably into place. Her features were still delicate, and even age couldn't conceal the beauty of her younger days.

At three in the morning, only a handful of people were in the lounge, each curled up in a seat with their eyes closed, resting.

The woman stood a few meters away, staring straight at Xi Jin without expression.

Xi Jin's gaze slowly moved down to the fruit knife in her hand. Its blade gleamed coldly in the candlelight.

"Mom."

He looked at her and called softly.

Hua Jinfang looked away from his face, walked to the cold buffet nearby, and picked up an apple, peeling it in silence.

She cut the fruit into pieces, put them on a plate, and came back over to hand it to Xi Jin.

But she kept holding the knife.