Chapter 4: A New Life
Shen Shu lived in an old apartment building, dilapidated and crumbling. Mu Jia Shu navigated the debris-strewn walkways, making his way home.
Seeing a small cart selling old-fashioned cakes, he remembered his grandmother and bought a pound.
He chuckled slightly. A year ago, he wouldn’t have imagined buying such things – especially worrying if he had enough money, wondering what he’d eat next.
The hallway was cluttered and cramped. The lights were broken. Mu Jia Shu climbed the stairs to the third floor. To his left lived his aunt’s family; to his right, his small apartment with his grandmother.
Mu Jia Shu changed his shoes and entered, “Grandma, I’m home.”
Wang Xiu Fang sat on the kang, stitching insoles. She had bad legs, chronic rheumatism, rarely leaving home. She did needlework and her son and daughter-in-law ran a street stall.
She didn’t respond, clearly displeased with her irresponsible grandson. Only when he placed the cake on a bedside table did she glance at him, furious, throwing her unfinished insole at him.
“You little bastard! Did you steal again?! Take that away. I’d rather starve than eat stolen goods. You’re disgracing your ancestors…”
In his previous life, no one dared speak to him like that. Even during conflicts, people were polite. No one swore at him like that.
But after a few days, Mu Jia Shu understood his grandmother’s temperament and wasn’t angry – if he had a grandson who constantly stole, he’d probably be beaten to death.
Mu Jia Shu deftly caught the insole and placed it back, “Grandma, don’t be angry. I didn’t steal. I bought this.”
His grandmother was even angrier, “Little beast, you wasted your money on this expensive stuff! Are you crazy?!”
Amidst the scolding, Mu Jia Shu found a strange humor. His lips twitched, quickly regaining his composure.
“I went to find a job.”
He opened the cake bag, “I don’t know if it’ll work out, but there are many jobs. If this doesn’t work, I’ll find another one. Don’t worry about money. I won’t steal again – try this cake, it’s soft, good for your teeth.”
Though not necessarily good-tempered, his upbringing showed in his calm demeanor. He finished, nodded slightly, and left, leaving his grandmother speechless.
After a long moment, she looked at the cake and the direction her grandson left. “Did heaven open its eyes?”
Moments later, she went to the kitchen, “Little bastard, sweet-talking old woman! Doesn’t even know how to cook. I spit on you!”
Mu Jia Shu didn’t cook not out of laziness, but because he had never done it before. He found it difficult, and the family was poor. If he broke a dish, his grandmother might chop him up.
He sat in his room, lost in thought. Turning, he saw his reflection in a mirror: a handsome face, devoid of makeup, with strong features.
He sighed and looked away.
His looks were the same, but he wasn’t complaining. Mu Jia Shu rarely paid attention to his appearance, realizing it only after Wei Xun and Zheng Ke’s comments. His face was five-tenths similar to his past self. He wondered if there was a connection.
And Wang Xiu Fang’s words – “for a man”? The memory was unclear. Did that mean Shen Shu was gay?
He still didn’t know how he died, and now this.
He picked up a newspaper – “Mu Yanrui’s First Public Appearance in a Year, Showing the Grief of Losing a Son.”
Mu Jia Shu’s hand touched the photo, clenching his fist.
“Father.”
Three days later, Mu Jia Shu received a call from Liang Pingzhao, informing him to pick up Wei Xun at 8:30 the next morning.
Knowing Wei Xun’s strong sense of time, hating tardiness, Mu Jia Shu woke early, got his car and keys, driving to Wei Xun’s apartment complex.
His former apartment complex.
The wide driveway was lined with evergreen trees, rustling in the morning breeze. It was post-New Year, with the fresh scent of early spring.
Few people were out. He parked, taking a deep breath.
He no longer belonged here.
He rolled down the window, the cool air refreshing his face. He looked at the greenery for a while.
He hadn’t arranged a meeting place with Wei Xun but didn’t call him either. They had been friends for twenty years. Calling wouldn’t reach him, it was better to wait.
He was an experienced hunter. Within ten minutes, Wei Xun appeared, leading a dog.
He still exercised every morning. Mu Jia Shu smiled faintly, then composed himself, opening the car door.
It was cold. Mu Jia Shu wore a turtleneck and a long coat, shivering slightly as he got out. Wei Xun was in a camouflage suit, like a young military instructor.
He ran over, looking fit. A drop of sweat ran down his face.
Mu Jia Shu raised his voice slightly, “Young Master Wei.”
Wei Xun paused, his lips trembling, as if a name was about to escape. He quickly regained composure, but his eyes showed a sharp grief.
His Samoyed saw Mu Jia Shu and wagged its tail, trying to approach, but Wei Xun held it back. The dog whimpered.
It acted like a Teddy bear, only Wei Xun could have such a dog. Mu Jia Shu had named it.
Mu Jia Shu smiled slightly. Wei Xun looked at him, feeling like he had a masochistic complex, listening to Zheng Ke, keeping him around, for the “desensitization therapy.” He might die of heartache before it worked.
“Why did you park here?”
Wei Xun disliked similarities between Mu Jia Shu and others, even if coincidental. His tone was unfriendly.
Mu Jia Shu calmly lied, “First day of work, afraid of being late. I just parked and saw someone running who looked like Young Master Wei.”
Wei Xun might be hot-tempered, but he was kind and reasonable. Mu Jia Shu felt no pressure.
Wei Xun paused, saying, “Wait in the car. I’ll change clothes – turn on the heater.”
Mu Jia Shu smiled, acting like a professional bodyguard, “Yes, Young Master Wei.”