Chapter 29: It Was Just His Habit

The sunflowers in the vase had already withered, their petals curled and turned a dull yellow-brown, devoid of any vitality.

Qu Yan gently tapped Yan Zhuo’s arm. “I want to rest for a while.”

A faint weariness flickered in his eyes, tinged with a subtle bluish hue.

Yan Zhuo stepped toward the bedroom. The room was large and empty, a stark contrast to the warm and cozy living room, carrying an air of long-standing vacancy. He shook off the quilt and watched as Qu Yan lay down slowly.

As was natural, Qu Yan made a motion he had long been accustomed to—climbing into bed.

“I want to rest” in his ears meant they would rest together.

But he was stopped. Confusion overflowed in Qu Yan’s eyes as he tilted his head slightly. “Is the room not big enough?”

Yan Zhuo loosened his grip on the quilt and suddenly understood: this habit was only his own; it wasn’t Qu Yan’s.

Just like that kiss before—he was lost, obsessed, while Qu Yan remained forever clear-headed.

What did that kiss mean? Why did he kiss him? Questions piled up in his throat, but Yan Zhuo dared not voice them. Once a thief, always a thief—he had once stolen items scented with Qu Yan’s essence. Now he was no different, only more ambitious, daring to steal Qu Yan’s lover’s identity, his kisses, and his touch.

As long as this balance remained unbroken, as long as Qu Yan still held a trace of interest in him, he could forever remain a thief.

Pulling the quilt tighter and lowering his head, a low pressure seemed to seep out of him. The little wolf, who could not even disguise his thoughts, could easily evoke pity—yet Qu Yan was in no mood for that now.

With the tip of his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, Qu Yan said nothing, only slowly reached out and tugged the quilt back from Yan Zhuo’s hand.

At that moment, Yan Zhuo finally raised his head, looking at him with a gentle, hopeful gaze, but Qu Yan remained unmoved.

Rolling up the quilt, he turned over. A few minutes later, the bedroom door clicked open and then shut again.

“There are nineteen households in Building A, but it seems there’s no one by the name you mentioned,” Chen Yuning pondered aloud, shaking her head. “Maybe I remembered wrong. Let’s go look carefully again.”

Song Chengfeng heard her words, already guessing the outcome, but still forced himself to nod.

Building A was located at the southeast corner. The two crossed the small square in the middle of the complex. Passing by an ancient-looking willow tree, they encountered Wen Xi.

He was dressed as before, standing there clean and neat, like a painting.

From a distance, Chen Yuning energetically waved and greeted him. She wanted to approach and talk, and Song Chengfeng had no choice but to follow.

Wen Xi’s complexion was still somewhat pale. After Chen Yuning asked a few concerned questions, she explained why she had brought Song Chengfeng there.

Song Chengfeng nodded in agreement but secretly wished to avoid too much contact with Wen Xi. In his line of work, reading people is essential, and from the moment they met, he felt Wen Xi’s attitude toward him was strange.

After hearing Chen Yuning’s explanation, Wen Xi’s gaze settled on Song Chengfeng, then lingered on the small sleeping bundle in his arms for quite some time before smiling and speaking: “Mr. Song—no, Lawyer Song—is this your child?”

Many had asked this question before; Song Chengfeng could even answer it in his sleep. “No, I found him on the street. He looked appealing, so I took him along.”

Chen Yuning was quite surprised. “Really? I thought he looked a lot like you and assumed he was your child.”

Song Chengfeng glanced down at the peacefully sleeping child but found not a single resemblance.

Something flickered in Wen Xi’s eyes, and the corner of his mouth curled up disdainfully. “Speaking of which, I really liked the idea of being a lawyer back in high school, but fate led me to choose another major.”

Song Chengfeng maintained a slight smile, feigning empathy. “Was it family pressure? Your parents didn’t agree?”

Chen Yuning nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Wen Xi. “Is that right, Wen Ge?”

Song Chengfeng silently mocked Chen Yuning’s eagerness as if they were performing a comedic skit.

Wen Xi shook his head and smiled faintly. “People in this profession are just as the news portrays—just and empathetic. I believed that completely until I met a lawyer who told me that for some of them, profit outweighs everything.”

He raised his eyes to meet Song Chengfeng’s, his tone laced with irony. “Lawyer Song, have you encountered such colleagues? Those who abandon conscience and professional ethics... or are you such a lawyer yourself?”

Song Chengfeng met his gaze without evasion. “At its core, being a lawyer is a matter of conscience. I have met a few like that. As for myself, I can only say I have a clear conscience.”

If one still failed to see Wen Xi’s malice, they must be truly foolish. Song Chengfeng prided himself on his memory, but even after racking his brains, he found no trace of past conflict with Wen Xi. This proved he had never offended him.

As for why Wen Xi behaved as he did now, Song Chengfeng could only conclude that Wen Xi had been deeply hurt by a lawyer before, leaving him with such a profound shadow that he despised all practitioners of the profession.

“I think so too. Lawyer Song, you’re different from those who would help a child with no blood relation.”

Song Chengfeng let out a dry chuckle. “Exactly my thought.”

Seeing Wen Xi’s mood shift, Chen Yuning quickly said goodbye and led Song Chengfeng into Building A.

“Did you offend Wen Ge before?” Chen Yuning’s face turned serious, though without much threat.

Song Chengfeng’s expression turned bitter. “I want to know too, but I don’t even know him. How could I forget a face I’ve seen only once?”

Chen Yuning dropped the subject. “True enough.”

Watching their backs disappear, Wen Xi stood for a moment before turning his head. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long.” Qin Ji stepped out from behind the tree. “Just when you said you used to like the legal profession.”

His tone was flat, but his gaze was fixed unblinkingly on Wen Xi’s face.

Wen Xi took a few steps toward him, then stopped. Suddenly, a smile curved his lips—a flawless face radiant in the sunlight. “Am I good-looking?”

“Very,” Qin Ji licked his lips. “Extremely good-looking.”

Wen Xi crossed his arms and snorted lightly, expression unreadable—neither pleased nor displeased. After a long moment, he turned and left. “So shallow.”

Qin Ji remained standing. The wind passed, and the willow branches brushed wildly against his face, tickling and, strangely, causing a faint ache.

At the corner, Wen Xi turned sideways. “Aren’t you coming?”

He raised an eyebrow, revealing a sharpness unlike his usual self—like a freshly honed dagger.

Qin Ji dropped the willow twig he’d just broken off and took a few steps forward.

Wen Xi resumed his usual gentle demeanor, as if everything just shown was an illusion.

Qin Ji pondered silently: which was the real Wen Xi? The polite and distant one, the smooth and adaptable one, or the flamboyant and bright one? Which, indeed, was his true self?