People began setting off firecrackers sporadically around three or four in the afternoon. By the time the evening gala’s midnight countdown started, the entire city was utterly drowned in their roar.
All sorts of fireworks exploded in the sky, as if the whole night had been set alight.
Yan Xixi had been standing on the terrace, watching others set off fireworks.
There was no floor heating on the terrace. She was standing barefoot but didn’t feel the cold.
In the past, she detested the sound of firecrackers; it echoed throughout the night, making sleep impossible.
But this year, she hoped the sound of the firecrackers would never stop—she knew she could not sleep tonight anyway.
However, perhaps due to the sluggish economy, the sound of the firecrackers this year didn’t last until dawn as in previous years. By two in the morning, it had become sparse, and eventually, there was almost no sound at all.
Ordinary people were increasingly reluctant to spend money on such trivial things.
Yan Xixi was disappointed, constantly checking her phone. She had received only two New Year’s greeting messages—one from Xu Xiaoya, the other from an unknown number, likely sent to the wrong person.
The night deepened. An occasional, sporadic firecracker would sound, then everything would fall deathly silent. The vast house, immersed in the pre-dawn darkness, felt lonely and foreboding.
Wan Donglin unlocked the door with his key and quietly slipped inside.
There wasn’t a single light on in the large house, nor any sound. All the staff had gone home for the New Year, leaving the house deathly still and devoid of life.
There were no traces of a meal on the dining table. He also checked the living room. Similarly, there was no trace of any New Year’s supplies.
He didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, he looked upstairs. There was no sound from there either. It seemed no one was home at all.
Yet, he still headed upstairs, tiptoeing quietly.
He gently pushed open the bedroom door. His eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, saw clearly—the bed was empty. The room was vacant.
He let out a cold laugh. Just as I thought, she really can’t handle loneliness.
He closed the door and started to leave, but he stopped abruptly as he reached the corner of the hallway.
In the silent, black night, a faint crying sound could be heard—low, almost imperceptible, like a lost soul’s mournful wail in the darkness.
His heart jolted, and he reached out to switch on the light.
The crying sound was distant, coming from a corner of the rose terrace, like a ghostly presence.
He strode over. There was Yan Xixi, her arms wrapped around her knees, her head buried between them. Her slender shoulders trembled slightly. She had obviously been there for quite some time.
Startled by the sudden light, she hastily buried her face in her sleeves, rubbing vigorously. When she lifted her head, the intense glare forced her to squint, unable to fully open her eyes.
She hadn’t even dreamed someone would come!
At this hour, how could anyone just barge in?
Wan Donglin stared at her intently.
"Yan Xixi, what are you doing here?"
She slowly opened her eyes, struggling to force a smile, but couldn’t. She hastily let her disheveled hair fall, obscuring most of her face.
Wan Donglin gazed at her eyes, red and swollen like peaches. After a moment, he lifted her into his arms. Touching her hands, he was startled by how ice-cold they were.
Yan Xixi shivered and glanced at the time. It was already past four in the morning.
Wealthy men returned to their golden houses to relax and be amused by their playthings. But now, he had quietly returned to find her crying alone deep in the night. In the past, she had always greeted him with a smile. This was the first time! No one wanted to hear sobbing in the early hours of New Year’s Day. Rich people were very superstitious; they believed it was an ill omen that would bring misfortune for the entire year.
He stared at her fixedly.
She hurriedly lowered her head, avoiding his gaze.