"Who are you?"
Cheng Yue looked in confusion at the people outside the door: a young man in a white shirt supporting an elderly woman with a full head of silver hair.
"Sorry to disturb you. May I ask whether an elderly gentleman named Cheng Wenzhuo once lived here?"
The young man, who looked like a secretary, asked the question. At the familiar name, a flicker of wariness instantly crossed Cheng Yue's face.
"Who are you?"
His reaction was too obvious. Even in the fading light, neither visitor missed it.
The elderly woman, who had been standing quietly beside the young man, was the first to grow agitated. "Do you know him? Where is he now? Can you tell me?"
The young man seemed worried that she would become too upset and hurried to soothe her, hoping to calm her down.
But Cheng Wenqing had finally found news of the brother she had been separated from for so many years. How could she not be anxious?
Ignoring the young man's attempts to stop her, she stepped forward and seized Cheng Yue's hand. Her voice trembled slightly, carrying a hint of pleading. "Dear boy, don't be afraid. I'm not a bad person."
"Cheng Wenzhuo is my older brother. Just tell me anything you know about him, and I can give you money. I have plenty of money!"
The palm resting over the back of his hand was soft and warm, as though it had never weathered any hardship. Cheng Yue lowered his eyes to her pale, plump hand.
Suddenly, he remembered another pair of hands, wrinkled, scarred, and covered in thick calluses.
Someone steadied him from behind, and Cheng Yue turned in alarm.
Ji Huaijin had just finished showering, and water still dripped from his hair. He gave the visitors a