The old residence stood deep along Hongqiao Road in Shanghai's western suburbs, surrounded by camphor trees. When the car turned into the lane, the high-rises on either side vanished, replaced by old-fashioned walls and iron fences covered in vines.
The iron gate opened automatically. The car glided inside and stopped before a three-story Western-style house. It had been built during the Republican era, with bare red-brick exterior walls, arched windows, and two Roman columns before the porch. The patterns on their capitals had already faded somewhat.
Li Bo'an opened the car door, and Su Yu bent down to get out. Kurama leaped from his shoulder and crouched on the ground, looking around. She found this place wonderful, as though it were filled with spiritual energy.
"Young master, your room has been prepared." Li Bo'an led Su Yu to the living room entrance. "I'll take you there now. Oh, and one more thing, young master—dinner is at seven. Is that all right?"
Su Yu nodded and followed Li Bo'an upstairs. The staircase was wooden and gave off faint creaks beneath their feet. Several yellowed old photographs hung on the walls: elderly men in long gowns, women holding children, and one of Su Yu's father—in his younger days, wearing a military coat and standing beside a jeep with a flamboyant grin.
Su Yu's room was at the very end of the second floor. A pot of asparagus fern sat on the windowsill, well tended, its leaves lush and green as they swayed gently in the breeze. Opening the window revealed the osmanthus tree in the courtyard and the distant skyline, cut into jagged shapes by the high-rises and glowing with a faint golden sheen in the afternoon sun.
The next day, Su Yu slept until noon to get over his jet lag.