The villa had been tidied up exceptionally well. Chen Feng had always arranged for regular cleaning, but since the master and his servants had been away, the main building had been unoccupied for a long time, lacking a touch of human warmth. Today, however, with Yin Feng returning home from the hospital, the garden lights were on, and the villa was brightly lit, creating a lively and cozy atmosphere.
Yin Feng walked along the garden path toward the main building. The driver parked the car and followed behind him. Yin Feng remained silent the entire way until they reached the entrance, where he suddenly asked, "Tuya, is it true that I used to revolve around that woman every day, begging for her affection?"
The driver, nicknamed Tuya, lowered his head and replied, "Yes."
Yin Feng felt a slight headache and said calmly, "How special could she be? Even if I had the mental age of a ten-year-old, how could I have stooped to that?"
Tuya said softly, "She was very good."
Yin Feng glanced at him and remarked, "You’ve always been soft-hearted."
Tuya smiled. "It’s different. She treated you well back then, more sincerely than any other woman. She protected you so thoroughly that we didn’t even need to step in."
Yin Feng fell silent after that.
When they entered the living room on the first floor, they found Chen Feng, the artist, the chef, the gardener, and Lao Jiu all waiting. Seeing Yin Feng return, they all stood up. Yin Feng waved his hand and said, "Sit."
Everyone sat down together. The artist, being the youngest and most energetic, hurried to brew tea and brought it over.
Yin Feng sat in the center, looking at their concerned yet joyful eyes, and smiled. "I’m fine now. I’ve worried all of you during this time."
Everyone smiled in response.
Lao Jiu, still carrying the timid demeanor of someone who had been in prison, hunched his shoulders and rubbed his hands together. "Teacher Yin, do you really not remember anything from this period?"
Yin Feng responded indifferently, "Hmm."
The gardener, with his sharp, thin face and gloomy expression, interjected, "Lao Jiu, why bother asking? If he can’t remember, he can’t remember. There’s no need to trouble Teacher Yin with it."
Lao Jiu, nicknamed "Old Nine," chuckled and said nothing more.
Yin Feng, however, added, "I’ve heard that during this time, I’ve been… mingling with that policewoman. You all must have felt quite at ease, free from my supervision and no longer bound by what I’ve told you before."
Everyone chuckled awkwardly.
Chen Feng adjusted his glasses and said, "I’ve been by your side the whole time, too busy to do anything else." He then lifted his sharp, discerning eyes and glanced at the others.
The chef was the next to speak. He had been with Yin Feng for a shorter time—only three years. In his forties, he was of average age among the group. He was handsome, neither too fat nor too thin, with a well-proportioned build. However, perhaps due to years of cooking and eating well, his complexion was radiant, glowing with the typical sheen of many chefs. At first glance, he exuded a worldly, down-to-earth vibe.
"Your three daily meals are my responsibility. Do you think I’m under your supervision or not?"
Yin Feng smiled and spoke again, "What about the rest of you? During this time, did any of you…" He paused, his expression turning colder. "…lose control and do something you shouldn’t have? If the police catch you, I won’t help you again."
No one spoke.
Yin Feng’s gaze swept over each of them, observing their expressions. He felt somewhat reassured.
He continued, "Good. Since none of you have harmed others, did any of you harm yourselves?"
The group remained silent. Lao Jiu was the first to rub his hands and chuckle. "No, Teacher Yin, I didn’t. Life is comfortable now that I’m following you. Besides, Old Nine has always harmed others, never himself."Yin Feng curled his lips—that was indeed the truth. Before his release from prison, Lao Jiu had likely been the most ruthless among them. However, if it weren’t for the brutal rape and murder of his eight-year-old daughter, whom he had relied on for survival, he wouldn’t have hacked someone into mincemeat. In prison, bullied by a cell tyrant, he sliced off half of the man’s ear in the dead of night, forced him to eat the shredded flesh, and destroyed the evidence. From then on, he feared nothing and lived an extraordinarily peaceful life.
Yin Feng had once interviewed him and even arranged for journalists to cover his story, publicly analyzing the actions and psychology of the perpetrator who had harmed him. This earned Lao Jiu forgiveness from most people and even a reduced sentence. Afterward, Yin Feng spoke with him several more times, and he gradually regained his calm, reconnecting with life and the people around him. Upon his release, as an elderly man with a criminal record and nowhere to go, Yin Feng took him in. Since then, he had devoted himself wholeheartedly to staying at the villa, working as a handyman, always cheerful and smiling.
…
At that moment, Yin Feng noticed that someone among the group had quietly lowered their head.
He spoke: "Xiao Yan."
Xiao Yan, the artist, remained silent with his head bowed. His right hand lightly brushed his left wrist before immediately pulling away. The chef sitting beside him grabbed his hand, and as the sleeve slid down, two fresh cuts were starkly visible among more than a dozen densely packed old scars.
The living room fell silent. Xiao Yan kept his head low, revealing a pale stretch of neck.
A former severe depressive and a painting prodigy, his parents had died under suspicious circumstances years ago. The police had long suspected Xiao Yan’s involvement but lacked evidence. Even after coming under Yin Feng’s care, he had once attempted ***, only stopping when prevented.
Yin Feng said, "Enough. Your body is one with you—it feels your emotions, your pain, your joy. Why hurt it again? That’s nothing but cowardice. Don’t do this anymore."
Xiao Yan, usually such a refined young man, flushed red and nodded.
The chef then spoke up, "Teacher Yin, will you still go looking for that policewoman?"
The question made everyone turn to Yin Feng, their expressions tinged with amusement. The gardener chimed in, "If you really like her, I can have her in your bed tonight, just like Shu Xue last time."
Yin Feng had heard about Shu Xue from Chen Feng, though he had no memory of this woman who had persistently pursued him. Then he recalled Chen Feng mentioning how You Mingxu had lifted Shu Xue and thrown her out. For some reason, the corner of his mouth twitched.
He replied indifferently, "Don’t act recklessly. I just told you all to behave. That woman… was merely a distraction during my period of diminished capacity. There’s no need to mention her again. Those who walk different paths cannot work together—I will never be with a police officer in this lifetime."
—
With Yin Feng’s return, the lives of those around him seemed to fall back into place. They had always lived with him in the villa, and as night deepened, they dispersed. From today onward, they could once again settle into the calm, ordinary life by his side.
Chen Feng also returned to his room to sleep. Yin Feng went back to the master bedroom, took a shower, and emerged wearing only underwear with a towel wrapped around him. Standing before the mirror, he dried his hair and studied his current appearance—it seemed he had even gained a little weight.
After a while, he stared into his own eyes and let the towel drop from his hands.
Those dark eyes, seemingly impossible to see through.
A long moment later, expressionless, he walked to the bed, pulled off the towel, and collapsed onto it.When he finally came to his senses, he realized he had wrapped the entire quilt tightly around himself, limbs curled up like a squatting frog. He had even rested his head sideways against the quilt, nuzzling it a few times.
...What on earth was he doing?
After a moment of silence, he tossed the quilt aside and lay down straight on his side as usual, resting his head on his arm and closing his eyes to sleep.
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