The villa had been tidied and arranged perfectly. Chen Feng had always had people regularly clean, but after the master and servant left, with no one living in the main building for so long, it somewhat lacked a lived-in feeling. But today, with Yin Feng discharged and returning home, the garden lights were all on, the villa brilliantly lit, appearing lively and warm.

Yin Feng walked along the garden path toward the main building. The driver parked the car and followed behind him. He walked in silence until reaching the building’s entrance, then suddenly asked: “Tu Ya, did I follow that woman around every day, begging for her affection?”

The driver nicknamed “Tu Ya” lowered his head: “Yes.”

Yin Feng felt a slight headache and said coolly: “How special could she be that even with a ten-year-old’s mental age, I’d act like that?”

Tu Ya said softly: “She’s really good.”

Yin Feng glanced at him and said: “You’ve always been soft-hearted.”

Tu Ya smiled: “This is different. She was good to you before, more sincere than any woman, and protected you so well we didn’t even need to intervene.”

Yin Feng finally fell silent.

Upon entering the first-floor living room, they found Chen Feng, the artist, the chef, the gardener, and Old Nine all waiting. Seeing Yin Feng return, they all stood up. Yin Feng waved his hand: “Sit.”

Everyone sat down, and the artist, being the youngest and most energetic, went to make tea and bring it over.

Yin Feng sat in the center, looking at their concerned yet joyful eyes, smiled, and said: “I’m fine now. I’ve worried everyone during this time.”

Everyone smiled.

Old Nine still had that shrunken look of someone fresh out of prison, hunching his shoulders and wringing his hands as he said: “Teacher Yin, you don’t remember anything from this period?”

Yin Feng gave a casual “mm” in response.

The gaunt-faced, gloomy gardener said: “Old Nine, why ask? If he can’t remember, he can’t remember, why trouble Teacher Yin?”

Old Nine chuckled and fell silent.

But Yin Feng said: “I heard that during this time, while I was hanging around with… that policewoman, you all had it easy, didn’t need to follow my management or care about what I’d told you before.”

Everyone chuckled again.

Chen Feng adjusted his glasses: “I stayed by your side the whole time, too busy to do anything else.” He finished speaking and raised his sharp eyes to look at the others.

The chef spoke second. He had been with Yin Feng for a shorter time, only three years, and in his forties, he was middle-aged among the group. His appearance could be called handsome, neither fat nor thin, with a proportionate build. Perhaps because of years of good cooking and eating well, his complexion was excellent, reflecting that shine many chefs have. At first glance, he was full of common street vigor.

“I took care of your three meals a day, how could I not follow management?”

Yin Feng smiled slightly, then spoke again: “What about the others? During this time, did anyone…” he paused, his expression cooling: “lose control and do things they shouldn’t? If the police catch you, I won’t help you again.”

Nobody spoke.

Yin Feng’s gaze swept over them one by one, observing their expressions, and his heart eased somewhat.

He continued: “Very good. Since you haven’t harmed others, have you harmed yourselves?”

Everyone remained silent. Old Nine wrung his hands and smiled: “No, Teacher Yin, I haven’t. Life is comfortable now following you. Besides, Old Nine has always only hurt others, never himself.”

Yin Feng’s lips curled – this was true. Before prison, Old Nine had probably been the most ruthless among them. However, if his eight-year-old daughter, his only family, hadn’t been raped and murdered back then, he wouldn’t have chopped that person into tofu-sized pieces. In prison, when bullied by the prison boss, he cut off half the man’s ear at night and forced him to eat the minced pieces, destroying the evidence. After that, he feared nothing and lived quite peacefully.

Yin Feng had interviewed him before and arranged for reporters to interview him too, publishing analyses of the perpetrator’s actions and psychology from that year, which earned him understanding from most people and even a reduced sentence. Afterward, Yin Feng talked with him several times, and he became calm again, regaining his feelings for life and the people around him. After release, as a lonely old ex-convict with nowhere to go, Yin Feng took him in. Since then, he had wholeheartedly stayed at the villa, working as a handyman, always smiling.

…

At this point, Yin Feng noticed someone among those present secretly lowering their head.

He spoke: “Xiao Yan.”

Xiao Yan was the artist. He kept his head down silently, his right hand lightly touching his left wrist before quickly dropping it. The chef sitting beside him grabbed his hand, the sleeve falling to reveal more than ten densely packed old scars with two new wounds among them.

The living room was quiet. Xiao Yan kept his head low, exposing a stretch of pale neck.

A former severe depression patient, a painting genius whose parents had died mysteriously several years ago – the police had always suspected Xiao Yan’s involvement but lacked evidence. Even after coming to Yin Feng, he had attempted self-immolation once, only stopping when prevented.

Yin Feng said: “Enough. Your body is one with you – it feels your emotions, pain, and joy. Why harm it again? That’s just a sign of cowardice. Don’t do this anymore.”

Xiao Yan, such a refined young man, blushed and nodded once.

The chef then asked: “Teacher Yin, will you see that policewoman again?”

At these words, everyone looked at Yin Feng, all seeming somewhat teased. The gardener added: “If you like her, I could have her in your bed tonight, just like Shu Xue last time.”

Yin Feng had heard about Shu Xue from Chen Feng, though he had no memory of this woman who had always pursued him. Then he remembered Chen Feng saying how You Mingxu had simply picked up Shu Xue and thrown her out. Somehow, the corner of his mouth curled slightly.

He answered coolly: “Don’t cause trouble, we just talked about behaving yourselves. That woman… was just a diversion during my period of cognitive impairment. No need to mention her again. Our paths are different; I’ll never be with a police officer in this lifetime.”

—

With Yin Feng’s return, everyone’s life seemed to return to normal. They had always lived with him in the villa, and as the night deepened, they dispersed – from today, they could return to their quiet, ordinary lives by his side.

Chen Feng also returned to his room to sleep. Yin Feng went back to the master bedroom, showered, and came out wearing only underwear with a towel wrapped around him. He stood before the mirror drying his hair, examining his current appearance, noting he seemed slightly heavier than before.

After a while, he stared at his own eyes, lowering the towel in his hand.

Those black eyes, their depths seemingly always unclear.

After a long moment, expressionless, he walked to the bed, pulled off the towel, and fell onto the bed.

When he came to his senses, he realized he had gathered the entire blanket in his arms, curled up his limbs like a cross-legged frog, wrapping the blanket tight, and even resting his head sideways against it, nuzzling it a few times.

…What was he doing?

After a moment of silence, he threw aside the blanket and lay straight on his side as before, pillowing his arm under his head, and closing his eyes to sleep.