People in the countryside weren't in the habit of knocking. An open courtyard gate meant someone was home. The older generation would call out as they walked in, while younger people generally came in without a word.
In the few days since Cheng Yue had returned, he hadn't seen anyone knock. Hearing such a polite gesture out of nowhere, he briefly wondered whether he'd imagined it.
Tap, tap, tap.
The knocking sounded again.
Cheng Yue stopped hesitating and hurried over in the plastic slippers he'd bought at the village shop for ten yuan, wondering who in the village would be so polite.
"Coming."
The closed wooden gate slowly opened. The moment Cheng Yue saw who stood outside, he froze.
The bell hanging from the keyhole was mottled with rust. A breeze stirred the red cord, making it chime.
Ji Huaijin's bloodless lips curved into a faint smile. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
He had driven through the night from Capital City. Dark shadows rimmed his eyes, and visible exhaustion marked his face. His disheveled collar exposed his pale collarbones, lending him a fragile, sickly beauty.
Cheng Yue pressed his lips together and lowered his gaze to the pebbles on the ground. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't ask how Ji Huaijin had found him. He knew personal information was practically an open book in this age of big data. Whatever you did or wherever you went, you needed to provide it. Sometimes even getting a membership card at a shoe store required an ID.
And with Ji Huaijin's mysterious background, finding his registered hometown would have been child's play.
Ji Huaijin's voice was hoarse and strained, turbulent emotions churning in his deep eyes as he asked softly, "What do you think?"
Cheng Yue neither moved nor spoke.