Under the Cheongsam Skirt - Chapter 21

At the same time, the military off-road vehicle left the bustling Paramount Ballroom under the watchful eyes of numerous officials. It drove through the quiet streets of late-night Shanghai and finally turned into an old-style mansion. The red-bricked corridors and the lantern swaying in the wind at the courtyard entrance came into view.

The servants skillfully removed the threshold to let the car in. Shortly after, the driver in the front reminded, “Young Marshal, we’re home.”

In the back seat, Mu Changfeng suddenly opened his eyes. The light from outside the car window illuminated half of his face, like a fleeting glint of cold steel.

He got out of the car, the coldness in his expression fading slightly as he walked into the corridor. He asked the accompanying servant, Ah Fu, “Where’s the old madam?”

“The old madam has already gone to bed. She originally wanted to wait for you, but it got too late, so she went to sleep first. She instructed me to wait here for you,” Ah Fu replied, noticing the smell of alcohol on Mu Changfeng. “Young Marshal, would you like some sobering soup?”

“No need,” Mu Changfeng said.

Mu Changfeng’s mother, Feng Jinzhen, had once been the daughter of an official family. She couldn’t get used to Western-style buildings and instead loved these deep, traditional courtyards. This particular residence had originally belonged to Lü Song, the last prefect of Shanghai. Unfortunately, his descendants were unfilial and squandered the family fortune. Mu Changfeng had bought the property ten years ago.

The room was lit, as if someone had deliberately left the light on for him. Mu Changfeng instinctively glanced toward the dim inner chamber, and the sharp tension in his expression softened slightly.

He couldn’t help but think that if Zhao Ciqin were here, she would probably already be asleep by now.

She had always been more prone to sleep than most people. She loved to stretch out a pale arm over the edge of the bed while sleeping. If his return disturbed her, she would usually just barely open her eyes, mumble a sleepy “You’re back,” and then roll over to make room for him on the bed.

If she were still here… she would have left a light on for him in the outer room, just like now.

Even though he knew it was impossible, Mu Changfeng’s heart raced wildly at the thought. He didn’t rush to wash up. Instead, he walked into the inner chamber without turning on the light, relying on the faint, hazy glow from outside to look at the bed curtains hanging down.

Everything seemed unchanged.

The deep night was silent, with only the occasional rustling of the wind passing through the corridor, but it didn’t disturb the stillness.

After what felt like an eternity, a slender arm suddenly emerged from behind the bed curtains, as if Zhao Ciqin were about to sit up and appear from behind them, looking at him with her usual gaze.

But at that moment, Mu Changfeng’s expression turned sharp and cold. He immediately pulled out a gun from his coat and aimed it at the face of the woman behind the curtains.

“Ah!”

The woman froze for a moment before letting out a scream that echoed throughout the mansion.

Five minutes later.

Feng Jinzhen hurried in from another courtyard. Her hair was neatly arranged, clearly indicating she hadn’t been asleep. She glanced at the woman kneeling on the floor, crying, and then asked Mu Changfeng, “What are you causing a scene about in the middle of the night?”

“Did you arrange this?” Mu Changfeng asked directly.

“Last time you came back, you drove everyone away. Manjun is a pitiful child. She can’t survive without our family. Why must you…”

Mu Changfeng interrupted her, “Was it you who arranged this?”

Feng Jinzhen’s expression finally turned unpleasant. “Yes, it was all my idea. But Changfeng, you need to think about it. You and Ciqin are already divorced. The house can’t stay without a woman forever. You refuse to meet other respectable young ladies. I’ve been staying at home for so many years and don’t have many skills, but I can at least help you find a well-behaved and sensible companion.”

Mu Changfeng instinctively frowned.

His eyes were deep and sharp, and his long years on the battlefield had imbued him with a stern, intimidating aura. When he showed no expression, he exuded an overwhelming sense of pressure and detachment.

A chill filled the room. Unconsciously, even the woman named Manjun on the floor stopped sobbing, hugging her arms tightly to make herself as small as possible.

“Are you dissatisfied with her?” Mu Changfeng asked.

Everyone knew who “her” referred to.

Feng Jinzhen looked at Mu Changfeng’s cold, sharply defined face and couldn’t help but sigh. “I like Ciqin very much. If it were possible, I wouldn’t have wanted you two to divorce. But Changfeng, Ciqin… she can’t have children. You two have no future together.”