Chapter 11 Proof

Chapter 11: Proof

Shen Qingci did not disturb anything in the room. With just one glance, he propped himself on his cane, turned, and walked out of the bedroom.

Downstairs, Uncle Fu was still standing in the living room. Seeing him come down, the old man parted his lips as if to say something.

Shen Qingci did not pause. He made straight for the foyer.

He grabbed his suitcase and pushed the door open.

The sunlight in the courtyard was just right, ginkgo leaves swirling down in the wind.

Cane in one hand, suitcase in the other, Shen Qingci walked along the stone path toward the exit.

His money was in overseas accounts, his company was already registered, and his plans were set in motion.

Giving up halfway was not his style.

So he had to leave.

"Sir."

Two bodyguards emerged from either side, blocking the gate.

Shen Qingci stopped and looked up at them.

His gaze was icy.

"Mr. Lu has instructed," one of the bodyguards said, gathering his courage, "that you... cannot leave."

Shen Qingci didn't speak. He simply turned his head to look at Uncle Fu behind him.

The old man stood in the doorway, wringing his hands uneasily, his face full of anxiety and helplessness.

In his ten years here, he had overseen every corner of this villa, scolded lazy servants, and tended to every plant in the garden.

But when it came to the people Lu Lin brought, to those bodyguards who only followed Lu Lin's orders...

He had no say at all.

Shen Qingci withdrew his gaze and looked back at the two men blocking his way.

"Step aside," he said, his voice calm yet carrying the pressure of someone long accustomed to authority.

The two bodyguards exchanged a glance. Neither moved.

A stalemate.

The autumn wind swept up fallen leaves, swirling them in the courtyard.

His knuckles turned white where he gripped his cane.

Just then, the sound of a window opening came from the second floor.

Shen Qingci looked up.

Lu Lin stood at the bedroom window. He looked down from his vantage point at everything in the courtyard, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot—as if he had just been crying, or was furious to the extreme.

He didn't speak.

He just watched Shen Qingci, watched that figure carrying a suitcase, ready to leave.

Shen Qingci looked back at him.

Their eyes met.

Time seemed to stand still.

Then, Shen Qingci turned his head back and repeated to the bodyguards:

"Step aside."

This time, his voice was colder, more resolute.

Like the authoritative President Shen from ten years ago.

Like the person... Lu Lin could never defy.

The standoff continued.

Outside the courtyard gate came the sharp screech of a car braking abruptly.

Lin Wei burst out of the car, her hair tousled by the wind, her face etched with urgency.

She tried to charge into the courtyard but was stopped by two bodyguards stationed outside.

"Apologies," a bodyguard said politely but firmly. "Mr. Lu has instructed that no one is to enter right now."

Lin Wei rose on her tiptoes, peering through the wrought-iron gate into the courtyard.

Lu Lin had come downstairs at some point.

He stood three meters behind Shen Qingci. Sunlight shone from the side, casting deep shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.

"Who are you, really?"

Lu Lin spoke.

His voice was very soft, so soft it was almost carried away by the wind.

But that tone—Lin Wei knew it all too well.

It was the tone he'd used at sixteen, when he first spoke after a three-day vigil outside the hospital morgue.

Tentative, cautious, carrying a fragile hint of hope he dared not harbor yet couldn't help but cling to.

Shen Qingci did not turn around. He coldly uttered two words.

"Shen Qing."

The glimmer of hope in Lu Lin's eyes shattered completely the instant he heard those two words.

"I don't believe you!"

A roar erupted in the quiet courtyard.

Lu Lin rushed forward two steps, his eyes so red they seemed to bleed. "You're lying to me! You must be him! The way you walk, the way you hold your cane, the way you look at people... How dare you say you're not him?!"

Shen Qingci finally turned around.

He looked up at the man in front of him, who stood half a head taller.

Twenty-six-year-old Lu Lin, the head of the Lu Group, now resembled a lost child—his anger tinged with despair, his questions full of silent pleading.

"If I say I am Shen Qingci," Shen Qingci spoke, his tone tinged with confusion, "would you believe me, Lu Lin?"

Lu Lin went still.

His mouth hung open, as if the words had choked him, and for a long moment, no sound came out.

He lowered his head, shoulders trembling slightly, hands unconsciously clenching into fists. His voice was so low it seemed like he was talking to himself:

"He's dead... I saw it with my own eyes... I..."

Shen Qingci studied Lu Lin for a long moment, then turned to leave.

Just as he lifted his foot, Lu Lin suddenly stepped forward and caught the hem of his coat.

Carefully, gently, he pinched the corner of the coat with his fingertips, as if afraid to cause pain or be shaken off.

"You say you're him."

Lu Lin's voice was hoarse, each word trembling with a plea:

"Then prove it. Prove it to me."

Shen Qingci stopped.

He looked down at the hand gripping his coat.

His knuckles stood out, fingers long and slender, and the back of his hand bore a wound from when he'd punched the wall, the dried blood stark against his pale skin.

Shen Qingci frowned, lifting his gaze to Lu Lin's face.

Those deep brown eyes were now shimmering with unshed tears, the rims red, the lashes trembling, and the gaze almost humble, unbearably cautious...

For a moment, Shen Qingci seemed to see the sixteen-year-old Lu Lin.

The child who would tug at his sleeve to apologize when he did something wrong, the child who would cling to him and refuse to let go when he was sick, the child who would stand at his door during thunderstorms, holding a pillow, with red-rimmed eyes, saying, "Brother, I'm scared."

Ten years had passed.

That look in his eyes hadn't changed at all.

Shen Qingci's cold expression softened almost imperceptibly.

He had already decided to abandon the identity of Shen Qingci and start anew.

Shen Qingci let out a faint sigh, as if giving up, or perhaps... compromising.

He stood still, not shaking off that hand, and spoke softly:

"The day you first came here, when you were eight, you refused to take a bath and hid in the closet."

He spoke slowly, each word clear. "When I found you, you bit me, leaving a scar on the web between my thumb and forefinger. It's still there."

Lu Lin's breathing stopped.

"The winter you were ten, you ran a high fever and insisted I stay with you to sleep. I sat up with you all night, and when you woke at dawn, your first words were, 'Brother, don't go.'"

"When you were twelve, you got into a fight because a classmate called you a dog raised by a cripple. After their family went bankrupt, I told you never to show mercy to anyone."

"On your sixteenth birthday, I gave you that—"

"Enough." Lu Lin interrupted him, his voice raw.

Shen Qingci stopped.

Lu Lin looked at him, eyes red and sharp: "Anyone determined enough could find out about these things."

Shen Qingci looked at him, at this child who kept doubting yet kept hoping.

He wanted to ask Lu Lin what was wrong with him.

But he didn't.

Shen Qingci suddenly raised his right hand and lightly tapped Lu Lin's calf with his cane: "What about this?"

A full-body shudder ran through Lu Lin.

Only Shen Qingci would do this.

It was their unique little gesture, meaning "stand still and listen."

Lu Lin stared at Shen Qingci for a long time, then slowly knelt on one knee.

He lowered his head, pressing his forehead against the hand with which Shen Qingci held the cane, his shoulders trembling violently.

Shen Qingci looked down at the top of his dark hair, listening to the suppressed, beast-like sobs forced from the depths of his throat.

Ten years apart, separated by life and death.