The opening speech Jiang Yanchu had spent the entire journey preparing vanished the instant he saw Jiang Xun's cold face. His lips moved, but all he managed was, "Xiao Xun..."
Jiang Xun walked past him without even lifting his eyes.
Jiang Yanchu's outstretched hand froze in midair. His fingers curled before he silently lowered it. He glanced back at Jiang Huaixiao, who was following close behind, and the latter shook his head expressionlessly.
The servants in the living room had already received their instructions. They all walked close to the walls, barely daring to breathe.
Wang Ma brought out the fruit platter she had prepared. Bite-sized pieces of honeydew and dragon fruit were neatly arranged, with delicate little silver forks stuck into them.
Jiang Xun did not spare it a glance and headed straight upstairs. He did not walk quickly, but every step landed heavily, as though he were taking his anger out on the stairs.
His steps faltered the instant he pushed open the door.
The room had indeed been renovated.
Afternoon sunlight poured unobstructed through an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, lighting up the whole room.
The desk had been replaced with a new one and stood against the wall. Beside it was a built-in bookcase, already lined with books whose plastic wrapping had not even been removed.
The bedding was pale blue, and the pillows were plump enough to bounce.
A glass of freshly warmed milk sat on the bedside table, faint wisps of steam rising from its rim.
Expressionless, Jiang Xun walked over and picked it up, then turned and went into the bathroom, where he poured the milk down the sink.
Downstairs in the living room, Jiang Huaixiao sat on the sofa, the coffee in front of him untouched.
Across from him, Jiang Yanchu fidgeted