001 The First and Last Time
Halfway up the mountainside, in the cemetery, stood a brand-new tombstone. Before it, several dozen people gathered in solemn silence, forming a dense, dark mass—a sight both grand and imposing. Yet, only four stood in the very front, occupying the foremost places of honor. The others lined up dutifully behind them, not daring to overstep in the slightest.
Faint sounds of weeping drifted through the air, subdued and, to some extent, perfunctory.
“There’s no need to cry,”
At that moment, the elder standing at the very center of the front row spoke. His voice, though marked by age, remained resonant and commanding, unwavering in its authority. Instantly, the sobbing ceased.
Only when all was quiet did the elder continue, “Has she arrived yet?”
The man to his right instinctively adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, glanced at his watch, then nodded, replying in a gentle tone, “Judging by the time, she should be here any minute.”
As the two spoke, a faint rustling arose behind them. The crowd turned to look and saw that, from the farthest edge, people parted to either side, opening a narrow path down the middle.
A striking man in a black suit, his face struggling to mask his agitation, escorted a young woman forward. She was slender and tall, her long hair cascading to her waist, her simple black dress understated in its elegance. Her face was half-hidden behind a pair of heavy, black-framed glasses that obscured the delicate details of her eyes and brows, yet could not conceal her remarkable beauty.
She exuded a gentle, tranquil air; even with her features unclear, she drew out a rare tenderness and sympathy from those who beheld her.
“Qingcheng, come here.”
Upon seeing her, the elder’s gaze softened noticeably, and even his voice grew tender, tinged with a warmth seldom shown.
Whispers rippled through the assembled crowd:
“Who is that girl...?”
“That’s Mu Qingcheng, the fifth child of the Mu family.”
“You mean the legendary Fifth Sister?!”
“I thought she wasn’t coming back?”
“Well, her own father died. Of course she’d return.”
“Heh, let’s hope she doesn’t have an ulterior motive...”
...
Mu Qingcheng paid no heed to the undercurrents of gossip. With lowered eyes, she walked forward quietly and carefully. At her side, the tall man bent down slightly to reassure her in a low voice, “Don’t be afraid, Qingcheng. Third Brother is here with you.”
“Alright,”
She nodded, her manner especially gentle and obedient.
When they reached the front, Mu Qingcheng naturally took her place beside the elder. The four men flanking them immediately stepped aside, making ample room for her.
She turned slightly, and with respect, addressed him, “Grandfather.”
“Good child,” he replied. “Go and offer incense to your father.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Today was her father’s funeral—the man who, whether from grief or guilt, was diagnosed with a terminal illness the very day after her mother’s fatal car accident. After five long years, death at last claimed his freedom among the living.
Mu Qingcheng’s mind was utterly blank, devoid of sorrow or happiness. Even his face was but a vague blur in her memory, for throughout her entire childhood, the figure of “father” had never truly existed.
...
After placing three sticks of incense carefully into the burner, Mu Qingcheng gazed at the photo on the tombstone, frowning slightly. At that moment, a tingling sensation pricked at her right ear.
She coughed softly into her hand, then, without drawing attention, tapped her ear twice.
“Boss, the target has appeared!”
“Understood!”
...