The Yè ancestral residence had seen many things over the years.
Family gatherings.
Arguments.
Ceremonies.
Secrets.
What it had never seen— was Chūn Lěng Fēng.
The moment he stepped through the courtyard gate, he was already looking everywhere.
"OHHHH."
He pointed at a roof beam.
"That's old."
"..."
Then a tree.
"That's also old."
"..."
Then a wall.
"THAT'S DEFINITELY OLD."
Qiū Huà Bǐ rubbed his forehead.
"Everything here is old."
"Oh."
Chūn Lěng Fēng nodded thoughtfully.
"Good point."
Violet walked ahead, not bothering to stop him.
Not bothering to explain him.
Not bothering to acknowledge the chaos.
Eventually she stopped in the middle of the courtyard.
"Introductions."
"Finally."
Chūn Lěng Fēng looked delighted.
Violet pointed at Yè Yī.
"Yè Yī."
Chūn Lěng Fēng nodded.
"The cold one."
Yè Yī didn't react.
Violet pointed at Qiū Huà Bǐ.
"Qiū Huà Bǐ."
"The sarcastic one."
"That's accurate."
Then Violet pointed at herself.
"Violet."
Chūn Lěng Fēng opened his mouth.
"Viol—"
"No."
"Viole—"
"No."
"Vai-l—"
"No."
"Vio—"
Violet spoke rapidly.
"If you can't say it properly, keep quiet."
"..."
"..."
For the first time all evening— Chūn Lěng Fēng actually shut up.
Qiū Huà Bǐ almost applauded.
A historic moment.
Yè Yī quietly headed toward the kitchen.
Nobody stopped him.
Because somehow— without discussion, without voting, without any form of knowledgeable agreement.
He had become the chef, and everyone knew it.
Including him, which was deeply unfortunate.
Yè Yī stared at the ingredients, then stared at the ceiling, then at the ingredients again.
A long sigh escaped him.
His life had taken a strange turn.
Six months ago— his biggest concern had been exams.
Now he was feeding strange Arm wielders at midnight.
Life was unpredictable.
Qiū Huà Bǐ sat on the courtyard steps.
Chūn Lěng Fēng sat opposite him.
The two stared at each other in silence.
One minute. Two minutes. Three.
Finally—
"You blink weirdly."
"What?"
"You blink weirdly."
Qiū Huà Bǐ stared.
"That's your opening conversation?"
"You sit weirdly."
"I am literally sitting."
"Exactly."
"..."
"..."
The two immediately decided the other was strange, but for entirely different reasons.
Qiū Huà Bǐ eventually became curious.
A mistake. A terrible mistake.
He activated his ability, just a little.
Just enough to hear Chūn Lěng Fēng's thoughts.
INSTANT REGRET.
IMMEDIATELY.
Because there wasn't a stream of thoughts.
There wasn't a river.
There wasn't even a waterfall.
It was a natural disaster.
> Wow that's a nice tree.
> Is that tree older than me?
> Probably.
> Wait.
> What if trees have feelings?
> If trees have feelings would that make chopping wood rude?
> Maybe.
> I should ask somebody.
> No.
> They'll think I'm weird.
> Actually they already think I'm weird.
> Good point.
> I wonder what's for dinner.
> Is Yè Yī cooking noodles?
> I like noodles.
> I also like meat.
> I haven't had good meat in years.
> I wonder if they have meat.
> If they don't have meat should I cry?
> Probably not.
> Maybe a little.
Qiū Huà Bǐ immediately shut the ability off.
His face had gone pale.
"..."
"..."
"What?"
Chūn Lěng Fēng asked.
"Nothing."
"You look disturbed."
"I am."
"Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
For the first time in his life— Qiū Huà Bǐ genuinely wished he couldn't hear thoughts.
Dinner came an hour later.
Everyone gathered around the table.
Six bowls.
Several dishes.
Rice.
Soup.
Meat.
For a moment— the atmosphere was peaceful.
Yè Yī finally sat down,then noticed something.
Six bowls.
He counted again.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
His gaze shifted toward Violet.
"...Why six?"
Violet took a bite of food.
"Preparation."
"Preparation for what?"
She pointed slowly toward Chūn Lěng Fēng.
"..."
"..."
Yè Yī looked over, then understood.
Too late. Far too late.
Because Chūn Lěng Fēng had already started.
Food disappeared.
Not eaten. Vanished.
One plate.
Gone.
Second plate.
Gone.
Third plate.
Gone.
Qiū Huà Bǐ watched in horror.
"Where is it going?"
"I don't know."
"It doesn't make sense."
"It really doesn't."
Yè Yī sat frozen even he was speechless.
The meat dish disappeared first.
Then another.
Then another.
At one point Chūn Lěng Fēng seemed to inhale half a bowl of rice.
Qiū Huà Bǐ wanted to cry.
His serving survived barely.
Yè Yī's serving survived barely.
Violet calmly continued eating as if nothing unusual was happening.
Which somehow made it worse.
Eventually—
The table became quiet.
The food was gone.
Mostly because one person had consumed enough calories to sustain a small village.
Then— something changed.
The excitement faded.
The loudness faded.
The grin disappeared.
Chūn Lěng Fēng stared at the empty bowl.
Silent for once.
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody joked.
Because something felt different.
A memory.
A distant one.
Cold nights.
Empty stomachs.
The Chūn Clan.
Children laughing.
Adults criticizing.
People whispering.
That strange Arm.
That strange child.
That strange boy.
Meals that never filled him.
Days spent hungry.
Years spent pretending not to notice.
Years spent pretending the comments didn't hurt.
Pretending the isolation didn't matter.
Pretending the loneliness wasn't there.
And now—
For the first time in a very long time—
He had eaten until he was full.
Not tolerated. Not used. Not studied. Not feared.
Just... fed.
His eyes lowered.
Nobody noticed except Violet.
Of course Violet noticed.
She noticed everything and said nothing.
Because some things didn't need words.
Across the table—
Qiū Huà Bǐ was still calculating how much food had vanished.
Yè Yī was mentally revising future grocery budgets.
Neither realized what was happening.
Chūn Lěng Fēng quietly looked around the table, at Yè Yī... at Qiū Huà Bǐ... at Violet... then lowered his head slightly.
A thought, simple, firm and stubborn settled into his heart.
I'm staying.
I'm definitely staying.
Even if they throw me out.
Even if they chase me away.
Even if I have to sleep on the roof.
I finally found answers.
And maybe...
Maybe I finally found people.
Across the table— Violet suddenly spoke.
"You're thinking too loudly."
Chūn Lěng Fēng nearly jumped.
"...Can you stop doing that?"
"No."
"...Fair."
And for the first time in years— The ancestral residence felt less like an old house and more like a home.