Chapter 18: The Photo Album

He did not answer the question.

The clock ticked steadily, marking the passage of time. When Jiang Mugu saw his lips move slightly, she immediately spoke up: "Don’t say anything more, I understand."

Her eyes stung with emotion, but when she met his gaze, something else came to mind. Tugging at his shirt, she said, "Wearing your clothes feels uncomfortable. Can I change into hers instead?"

Mu Anyan’s voice was devoid of emotion: "She doesn’t have any clothes here."

She let out a small, helpless sound.

Seeming to sense her hesitation, Mu Anyan took the initiative to explain, "She has never stayed here."

Jiang Mugu’s eyes lifted slightly, surprised, but she quickly masked it, a trace of mockery stirring in her heart. Who knew he wasn’t lying?

He had deceived her many times when they were children.

Mu Anyan noticed the shift in her mood but didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he asked, "The wound didn’t get wet, did it?"

She nodded.

She had been careful when she showered.

Lowering her gaze slightly, avoiding his eyes, she could still feel the warmth of his gaze upon her. "If you were in the car today, I thought about it for a long time just now."

Jiang Mugu lifted her eyelids, her mind instantly swirling with countless thoughts.

He motioned for her, "Sit down first."

Jiang Mugu tightened the towel draped over the shirt and sat by the bedside, a fair distance from his desk.

"Mugu, over these years, I have indeed been negligent. I won’t make excuses for myself. Saying sorry now seems futile."

As he spoke, the faint scent of her shower gel gradually wafted through the room. Her hair was loose, cascading like seaweed down to her waist. Her fair face wore a gentle expression, and her eyes shone with a quiet light.

The room was small and the windows were closed. He found her steady gaze somewhat unsettling. "I know it’s a little late to make amends, but I just hope that when I try to treat you well, you won’t be so anxious and fearful."

He had never felt this way before. Her face was soft and delicate, but those eyes always pricked at him with a sharp, unsettling sensation.

"If possible, I want to make it up to you as much as I can now."

Jiang Mugu met his eyes, her face expressionless, lacking any of the previous vulnerability that begged for protection. Instead, there was an inscrutable emotion he could not read.

He was usually in control of everything, but now he felt uncertain. "I told you, I’m in Haicheng for work. We have cooperation with your school. If you ever need help, contact me."

"Is it because of grandmother?" she asked.

After a pause, she added, "Because grandmother passed away, you want to treat me better."

"No," he said.

She wanted to ask why, but he interrupted, "In any case, I don’t want you to think that just because I’m kind to you, you have to worry about losing me at any moment."

"You’ve grown up, and I’m no longer the man in my early twenties."

He wanted to say more but ultimately didn’t. Instead, he stood up and said, "Go to bed early."

Then he left the study.

She watched his departing figure, briefly stunned, then lowered her eyes. Her eyes felt strangely sore.

After a long, busy day, she finally lay down, pulling the blanket over half her face. The blanket and the room still carried his scent.

It was a fresh, clean scent—a warmth found in dryness.

That room was actually the master bedroom. She could imagine how often he would come home exhausted from work and fall asleep right there, only to wake and continue working the next morning.

She knew he had always been a disciplined man.

Then her thoughts drifted from the present to the past. She lay awake all night until the light from outside streamed in, piercing her eyes.

She sat up, folded the blanket, and looked around the study. Her eyes scanned the bookshelf, passing over books ranging from ancient to modern times, including finance and law. Finally, her gaze settled on a photo album.

Something stirred within her, and almost instinctively, she stepped forward on tiptoe and pulled it out.

Sitting on the bed, she began flipping through it.

There were photos of her grandparents, and pictures of them with Mu Anyan.

In his youth, his sharp features were full of vitality, his eyes keen. In most photos with his grandparents, a faint smile played at his lips, suggesting a good relationship with his parents.

Looking at those pictures, she felt a pang of longing.

She could even imagine how rich and colorful his life must have been, how smoothly everything must have gone for him from childhood onward.

And she—she must have been the only blemish in his life.

That thought made her heart ache, and she hastened through the album.

Besides photos with his parents, there were some landscape shots. Some were aged and yellowed; a few had dates marked in the lower right corner.

The album’s contents were simple, just as she had long suspected: Jiang Wei or any other woman had never truly been part of his life.

But when she reached the last page, her hand suddenly froze.

There, she saw herself.