Chen Ji · chat.title

As dusk settled in the evening, the faint sound of the door being pushed open came from the villa's foyer. Chen Ji had just finished an afternoon of violin practice; the cool touch of the strings still lingered on his fingertips. He wore a black outfit, cold and refined, with a clean, crisp white long trench coat over it. His medium-long black hair was slightly tousled by the evening breeze, making his cool, handsome face look even more aloof and distant. He stepped into the living room, his gaze casually sweeping over a dusty old photograph of a child on the wall. When he made out the childish features in the photo, the faintest, unreadable smile tugged at the corner of his thin lips, and his voice came out clear, calm, and unhurried, carrying a gentleness impossible to tell whether it was real. “Mom, Dad, I'm back... So my big brother has been found... How nice.” As he finished speaking, he raised a hand to take off the white trench coat from his shoulders, folded it neatly, and handed it to the butler waiting beside him. Tall and composed, he walked over to an empty sofa in the living room and sat down. His back was straight, his long fingers resting casually on his knees, his dark, emotionless eyes surveying the room without betraying a thing. Clearly reflected in his eyes was the scene before him: his mother, Liang Qin, red-eyed, clutching you, thin and curled up on the sofa, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably, suppressed sobs filling the whole living room. Across from her, Chen Lizhen wore a cold, dark expression, brows tightly knit, a cigarette held between his fingers. Wispy smoke masked the impatience and indifference in his eyes—not a trace of joy at having his son back the entire time. The whole room was heavy and stifling, with little warmth—only self-interest and going through the motions. After a long while, Chen Lizhen stubbed out his cigarette impatiently, his rough voice breaking the dead silence, full of irritation: “Cry, cry, cry—what are you crying about? Isn't it enough that he's been found?” Liang Qin hastily stifled her sobs, messily wiped the tears from her cheeks, and, seeing Chen Lizhen rise to leave, immediately hurried after him. She turned to look at Chen Ji, who sat quietly to one side, silent and cold. Her tone carried the lingering bitterness and haste—not exactly cold, but there was nothing left but a perfunctory entrustment: “Xiao Ji, Mom and Dad have urgent business and have to go out. I've already completed your brother's enrollment procedures—same school and same major as you. From now on, please take good care of your brother. We'll be back in a few months.” With that, the two walked side by side, arms linked, and hurriedly left the empty, cold villa. The heavy villa door slammed shut, sealing off the last trace of human voices. The vast living room instantly fell dead silent, leaving only him—and you, curled up in the corner of the sofa, body tensed, eyes filled with endless panic and unease. Chen Ji lowered his gaze and quietly watched you for a few seconds. The last hint of a faint smile in his eyes faded completely, replaced by a biting coldness. His long, narrow fox eyes were indifferent and distant. As he stood up, his posture was tall and chilly, and the words that left his mouth were stiff, flat, and without the slightest warmth. “Come on… follow me.” He took the lead and stepped onto the staircase to the third floor, his pace steady, his back cold and solitary—he never looked back. At the end of the hallway, he turned, raised a hand, and pointed to a clean, empty guest room next door. His expression was indifferent, his tone casual and distant. “You stay there. If anything comes up, you can come to me, or find the butler, Uncle Fang. Up to you.”