Chapter 67 The Scent of Secrets
If the truth is a kind of wound, then choose a lie. If the lie is a kind of wound, then choose silence. If silence is a kind of wound, then choose to leave.
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For many, death is a release, yet they cruelly leave their pain to those who remain alive, their secrets to the innocent.
It seemed that the orderly flow of everything had carved a spreading question mark into the depths of a tranquil reality, gnawing at the heart like persistent insects.
The corners of her dry eyes seemed to have lost the instinct to shed tears. The winter wind whipped up foaming waves on the sea, leaving a sharp, damp chill lingering in the air.
Xue Zuining could only remember that, in life, her mother’s greatest fondness was for the sea—its vastness, its generosity. She recalled her mother once mentioning, almost in passing, that if the day ever came when her breath ceased, she wished to have her ashes scattered into the ocean, so that the ever-flowing waters would carry her to every corner of the world, sparing her the dampness and muddiness of the earth.
She gently clenched her fist, as if she could still feel the lingering warmth of her mother. Fine powder slipped quietly through her fingers, drifting into the embrace of the sea, flying toward a world of freedom. Her palm slowly unfurled; the sea wind, impatient, swept away the last trace of warmth, but could not take away a shred of pain.
Fine rain swept in from the depths of the ocean, falling like a dense net upon her petrified body, blurring her vision, yet somehow letting her feel the warm dampness at the corners of her eyes.
A black umbrella quietly unfolded above her, and a man’s coat settled gently on her shoulders with a tender motion.
“It’s you?” Xue Zuining’s gaze, upon recognizing the man’s face, flashed with an ironic hint of surprise amid her grief.
He Min adjusted the umbrella as she unconsciously stepped back, letting the white threads of rain soak his own coat. He paid it no mind, simply extended his hand. “This is yours. I’m returning it to its rightful owner.”
She saw the white handkerchief with blue butterflies in his hand—the very one she must have misplaced.
As she reached to take it, she heard the man’s low voice, his lips pressed together, “Can we talk?”
Xue Zuining was so exhausted she no longer had the strength even to force a smile. “Though I should thank you for returning my things, I don’t think there’s anything left for us to discuss.”
He Min watched her turn to leave and suddenly let out a quiet laugh. “Miss Xue, have you been blinded by a man’s hypocrisy?”
“What exactly do you want to tell me?” Xue Zuining said without turning. “Or is it that you’re still looking for some way to take revenge on me?”
“Revenge on you?” He Min gave a cold laugh. “I’m afraid the one seeking revenge isn’t me.”
He watched her sudden halt, a chilly smile curving at his lips. “Surely you don’t wish to spend your whole life in the dark about the truth, Miss Xue?”
His words sent a jolt through her. She turned around slowly, her eyes icy. “Are you aware that those who commit too many evils are bound for hell?”
“Evil?” He Min’s gaze turned cold. “You think too highly of me.” But then he heard her low voice, close at hand: “Please help me get rid of those watching us.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure and smiled. “Rest assured, the fact that I’m standing before you means I’ve already cleared away any obstacles.” He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—this woman was a born actress. No doubt her earlier performance had been a carefully staged show to mislead others; she had been suspicious all along.
In the quiet cafe, a man and a woman exchanged knowing glances, their mutual understanding concealed within the fading bustle.
“Didn’t you want to talk, Mr. He? Why have you fallen silent now?” Xue Zuining cradled her coffee in both hands, her longing for the truth at war with her fear of it, making her reluctant to let go of the cup’s warmth.
He Min watched the subtle movements of her hands and suddenly chuckled. “Can you tell me first, Miss Xue, what made you start suspecting all of this?”
“I don’t like things that are too perfect. They make me sense deception, smell the scent of secrets best left unspoken.” Xue Zuining had always believed that women possessed a sharp sixth sense. Since her mother’s death, everything had unfolded in orderly fashion, yet it felt like a film stuck on fast-forward, showing her only rehearsed illusions.
Her reply made He Min relax and lean back, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Is that really enough to make you believe a villain like me—and suspect him?”
She caught his obvious skepticism and gave a cold laugh. “Wasn’t it that anonymous email in my inbox two days ago—the one you sent, Mr. He—that gave me the best reason to trust you? The videos you so carefully selected for me were truly eye-opening.”