"Well curse my memory. You've just returned and have been busy all day, so you must be exhausted. Quickly take a shower and go to bed. We'll continue tomorrow." Mu Zhilan then continued, "The heater in your room has been turned on. Take note of the water temperature when you shower, make sure it's not too cold. Goodnight then."
"I will. Goodnight."
Only after Mu Jinchen said goodnight did she take Aunt Rong's arm and retired to her room.
In truth, Mu Jinchen was still jet-lagged. This was the time where he would be fully awake and was not sleepy in the slightest. However, if he did not say that, his sister would peel back her eyelids just to chat with him.
He propped his arms lazily on the couch and tilted his head back. Yellow-tinted light reflected off the gorgeously designed chandelier above him.
He looked around him; every brick and tile of the family manor had his sister's touch. The chandelier above him was designed by an Italian artist commissioned by his sister, who personally went to Italy to do so and had it custom made. The whole thing was hand-made and was the only one in the entire world. Every single item in this new wing was the only of its kind: the decor, the dining table, down to even the small furnishings. He sometimes pondered how much a woman must have loved her home to be able to be so diligent.
He seldom went to the old wing these days. There was a hundred years' worth of inheritance there. Every tree and blade of grass was passed down through the generations. They were antiques that his father forbade anyone to move. Father always said that the place held too many memories of his mother that even the trees and plants hold emotions. It made him wonder: how much must a man love a woman that he, even thirty years after her death, forbade anyone to move any item from his memories?
Mu Jinchen lit a cigarette, letting the taste of nicotine slowly spread out from the tip of his tongue. Nicotine was great, especially when having it during the middle of the night.
He took a long and slow drag, letting the taste of nicotine flow to his limbs and bones. The old manor was filled with love, but why could he not love it?
"Uncle, you're back?" Mu Yuhao came down the stairs and could not believe that his uncle was sitting in the living room.
"Why aren't you asleep?"
Mu Yuhao stretched. "I was awakened by a message on my phone, and I wanted to get a glass of water."
Mu Jinchen did not reply and only continued to smoke. Mu Yuhao had never seen a more attractive man than his uncle, especially when he was smoking. The red embers between his fingers slowly moved to his thin lips as smoke gently escaped. Streams of smoke engulfed him enticingly under the dim yellow lights.
"Smoke?" Mu Jinchen tossed the cigarette box to him. He had missed witnessing his nephew grow up and was unsure if he smoked.
Mu Yuhao shook his head. "I don't smoke, but you do look really cool when you smoke, Uncle."
Mu Jinchen gently curled his thin lips. Although separated by a generation, he was only about eight years older than Mu Yuhao. Conversations between them were relatively more casual.
Mu Yuhao had grown from a wailing baby to an outstanding adult who was only two centimeters shorter than him. He watched him grow up. He loved this innocent nephew of his but missed out on his nephew's growing years when he went abroad for so long.
Mu Yuhao took a sip of water from his glass and muttered, "I must've scared her off today. She sent a message this late at night to say that she'll be on leave for the next three days. This has never happened before." It seemed that he was talking to Mu Jinchen but also seemed like he was talking to himself.