Fortunately, the topic ended there. He didn't press further, or it would have been easy to expose the lie. Cheng Buxi silently thanked her luck.
She thought to herself that the things he asked were quite normal. She muttered inwardly that it wasn't so bad, though it was obvious he was deliberately trying to make conversation.
...
Having eaten and drunk their fill.
Cheng Buxi had already planned to discuss with Ning Ci before bed how to catch the cat-abusing pervert, and then on the weekend go together to the orphanage to visit the kids and set up a home for the stray cats nearby. But unexpectedly, Lu Tingzhou said, "Tonight, come back with me to Huadong."
That familiar tone—like a monarch's word, unyielding.
Her head buzzed. "Why—?" she panicked. "Bro, I want to go back to school."
"Do you really like sleeping in the dormitory that much?"
"..." Her momentum instantly weakened.
"What exactly attracts you there?" Lu Tingzhou couldn't understand. Back then, she had insisted on living on campus, and no one could stop her. "Is it the 1.2-meter by 1.9-meter hard board bed, or the bed rail that hits you when you turn over?"
Cheng Buxi's eyes widened in disbelief. "Bro...?"
He could have said this three years ago. Why now? Just because he had returned? And what about the more than nine hundred days he had been absent before?
"I have class tomorrow..." She furrowed her brows, two clear fine lines appearing between her brows.
Big Brother replied easily, "I remember it's in the afternoon."
"..."
When soft didn't work, she had to try hard. "Bro, I don't want to go to Huadong. I want to go back to school."
"Give me a reason."
What reason could there be? She didn't want to be in the same room with him, didn't want him to catch her being nervous and terrified. After all, she had made a mistake before, hadn't she?
"I... I don't want to go. Bro, please take me back to school." It was almost a plea.
Without her noticing, the entire hall had emptied. Not a single person was in sight. Just moments ago, two waiters had been standing at the door. Now it was truly just the two of them.
This kind of dead silence reminded Cheng Buxi of that art film shot here—the heroine singing on the empty corridor, also in the night with no one around.
The sight of her looking as if she were facing a great enemy only deepened the frustration in Lu Tingzhou's heart. He had always wanted to ask her, from the time he returned until now, so long, what exactly was she afraid of?
"Xiaoxi, you're afraid of me."
"Why?"
It came out after all. "To you, does my coming back really make you feel so uneasy?"
His tone was devoid of warmth. If there was any, it was heartache, confusion.
Cheng Buxi stared blankly at him, ripples trembling in her eyes. It was obvious, yet he still had to ask with his red lips and white teeth?
"..."
"Speak."
She shuddered. "I, I..."
"You don't like that I'm back, do you?"
"..." Her throat tightened, her chest heavy as if pressed by a weight.
The last time he saw such fear, bewilderment, panic, and helplessness on her face was three years ago on New Year's Eve, when she drunkenly confessed to him and he sternly rejected her.
"You don't want me to come back, is that it?"
Step by step, he pressed on.
The food she had just eaten seemed to catalyze her courage. She no longer wanted to play cat and mouse with him—after all, she had never won since childhood.
Having said such rebellious words, how could she not be afraid?
She had always been that pitiful little mouse, toyed with and squeezed by him at will. Cheng Buxi's eyes reddened, and she simply admitted outright, "Yes."
"Give me a reason."
"I said something rebellious."
So that was what she considered rebellious. If she knew his thoughts were even more extreme—wanting to lock her at home, not allowing her to go anywhere—wouldn't that be vile, unforgivable by heaven and earth?
Lu Tingzhou had always known she harbored a grudge about that incident. It had almost become a knot in her heart, an inescapable vine.
After years, he finally responded directly. "I only saw you as young. I didn't blame you."
"Xiaoxi, you were young then. I don't blame you."
Just a few words, and Cheng Buxi wanted to cry again.
He didn't blame her? Why did everything he said sound so light and casual, so high-sounding, while it was always her who suffered? Hadn't he seen how carefully and fearfully she had lived these past few years?
"You don't blame me?" Somehow, Cheng Buxi's nose suddenly began to sting. "Then why haven't you contacted me at all for three years? Ignoring me, brushing me off—you clearly hate me."
Finally, she said it. She had held it in for too long.
Hate her? No. If he really hated her, he wouldn't have gone to such lengths. He would think about what snacks to buy for her during mentally intense work breaks, would knit a scarf for her by hand, would write her birthday letters by hand every year—though he never sent them. Would that be hate?
Absolutely not.
Lu Tingzhou didn't know how to express himself to her either. He himself couldn't even clearly define the feelings he had for her.
Love? Certainly, it was love. A brother's love, a guardian's love, a love from above to below...
And beyond that? He didn't know, and he was afraid to know.
He dreaded waking the wild beast tearing deep within his heart. Like that summer night when he was seventeen, he saw his sister sleeping face down on the coffee table, defenselessly deep in slumber, revealing her smooth, full forehead. This sacred sight made him involuntarily lean down and kiss her. As his lips descended, the heavy hammer of moral judgment struck him, making stars burst before his eyes. He almost fled from the bedroom—
Now, facing his little sister with her gritted teeth and tear-streaked face, fragile as porcelain, he understood for the first time what it meant to reap what you sow.
He pulled her into his arms, marking a final period for that drunken slip of the tongue. "Xiaoxi, I don't blame you. I don't hate you either."
"Really...?" Cheng Buxi buried her face in his chest, her voice choked with sobs. "Do you really forgive me?"
"Mm, I don't blame you. You're still young. There's a lot you don't understand yet."
Yes, she didn't understand.
She had mistaken admiration for love. She was naive and childish, and she deserved to be punished a thousand times.
For the past three years, she had never stopped cleansing herself of guilt, forcing herself to forget the good times. All the indifference she had experienced, she accepted as punishment for not knowing her place.
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Author's note: Now he talks so innocently and righteously. Later, he'll be that much more broken and distraught. Of course, not that righteous either (sticks out tongue).