C8

In the desolate residential area, a black figure with white fumes in his breath and ice crystals hanging from his hair walked over.

He carefully stepped up the stairs. On the right side of the second floor, there was a few large, red words written on the painted green anti-theft door. 'Debt for money!'

"Even if you write it a hundred times, I still won't have the money to pay you back." Remembering how she shouted at a group of people a few days ago, Qiao Mu lowered her eyes, unable to describe the emotions within them.

"Just get used to it." Qiao Mu raised her head and comforted herself.

She was used to it, wasn't she?

She took out her keys and opened the door. Qiao Mu carried the bag of vegetables and rushed to the kitchen. Ignoring the cold water of the water, she rolled up her sleeves and began to wash the vegetables. She had to hurry up and cook and deliver it to her mother.

Qiao Mu did not pay any heating fees. Every night, she would only fall asleep with a hot water bottle in her embrace. She would often wake up in the middle of the night with her hands and feet numb from the cold.

Half an hour later.

Qiao Mu held the rice pot and carefully poured the steaming hot millet porridge into a thermos. SShe then put the vegetables and two boiled eggs into the pot. He added two scallion pancakes and covered it with a lid.

After scraping the rice porridge from the rice pot, he picked up the remaining scallion pancake and wolfed it down.

Three part-time jobs were barely enough to keep her mother. Although the treatment costs and the household expenses were hard work, Qiao Mu was very satisfied.

After eating in a hurry, he carried his schoolbag with him as he walked out the door. In the morning, he would accompany his mother in the hospital and deliver books to the customers in the afternoon.

Qiao Mu's figure walked out of the district and disappeared around the corner. From the car in the corner, a tall and straight man bent over and walked out.

The man wore a black overcoat that reached up to his ankles and a pair of long, slender hands with deerskin gloves. He stood tall and straight with a graceful bearing, appearing to be a little out of place in the old and dilapidated residential area.

The man frowned as he looked at the dilapidated building in front of him. His handsome face did not have a single trace of emotion, but his deep eyes revealed waves.

Upon seeing this, Leftie quickly took two steps forward and pulled open the rusty door.

The man walked up the steps at an extremely slow pace, examining the broken voice-activated light in the corridor, the rusted handrails, the mottled walls. On the second floor, a man stood up straight as he looked at the large scarlet words written on the green security door.

Zuo Zhen looked at the CEO who was staring expressionlessly at the anti-theft door. He was scared, he couldn't figure out the temper of his CEO, so he had to bite the bullet and ask, "CEO, do we need to open the door?"

The man's eyes were half closed, so he couldn't see the emotions in the depths of his eyes. He opened his thin lips, and the warm air he exhaled immediately turned into white mist. With a deep voice, he said, "Key."

If Qiao Mu saw it, she would definitely jump and immediately call the police to inform her uncle that some bad person had stolen the key to her house.

The air in the room was chilly and cold. His tall figure stood in the narrow living room, appearing even more cramped and crowded. The man lowered his head slightly and entered the small room with the doll hanging from the doorframe.

As if a hammer had suddenly struck his chest, pain spread throughout his body and his fingertips trembled uncontrollably. The man's cold eyes turned gentle. Ripples appeared in those eyes that were as calm as water, and his eyes were filled with mist. "Little girl, I've finally found you."

Although he had already guessed it, the bright smile on the photo still caused the man's expression to change instantly.

"Big brother, don't cry. Look, the cherry blossoms are about to bloom." The young man turned his head to look at the little girl with the ponytail, who was laughing extremely brilliantly.

"Mind your own business, you rascal, go away!" The youth stared at the little girl's tattered clothes with a hint of disdain and roared.

The little girl was stunned by his roar, her hands rubbing the corners of her clothes, hesitating for a moment. Looking at the stubborn boy who was wiping away his tears, she spoke once again, her voice carrying a trace of timidness.

"Don't cry …"

"Which eye of yours saw me crying? Scram!"

The little girl stopped talking. Her big innocent eyes stared at him, clear and unblemished.

Suddenly, she grinned at him like a morning lily in full bloom. The fragrance of the dew was striking.

For many years afterwards, whenever the silent Xi Muqiao thought of the little girl, he would think that perhaps it was the little girl's final smile that entered his heart and opened his heart that had been depressed for a long time.

Although he had guessed that Qiao Mu was the little girl from that year, when he saw that familiar little face once again in his memory, the man still could not suppress the excitement in his heart.

The man greedily looked at the photo in his hand. It was still the same old and tattered little shirt, the same tall ponytail, and the same small smile that he remembered. The man smiled, the corners of his lips raised high, and his eyes were filled with the gentle gaze of a drowning man.

"Don't cry …" The crisp sound seemed to echo in his ears.

In the lower right corner of the blackened wooden frame, there was a ballpoint pen. The pen was written in a small, crooked, and young handwriting.

"Hey, you stinking girl, we meet again!" Xi Muqiao raised his head slightly and withdrew the tears from his eyes.

The rest of the photo frames next to them showed ten, fifteen, and eighteen years old. The small facial features gradually opened up, the long hair was replaced with short hair, and the young handwriting became graceful. What remained unchanged was the smiling little face in each photo.

Simujo's nose was sour and his eyes were swollen. Fourteen years had passed since he remembered the scene.

He had not been able to witness the growth of his little girl. He did not know how she had managed to grow from the age of 6 to 20, but he could feel her stubbornness from start to finish.

A few photos filled up Xi Muqiao's empty space over the years. He was glad that the hardships of life did not crush her, nor did they erase the brilliant smile on his small face. It was not too late.

Many years ago, he lost his little girl. Now, he had found her. She didn't recognize him, but what did it matter? This time he would cling to her, not giving her the slightest chance to leave him.

Seeing the faded Mitch on the headboard, Xi Muqiao's expression softened a little. He had given her little Mitch, and she had kept it all these years.

The kitchen was clean and tidy, with a faint fragrance floating in the air.

Picking up the lid of the plate, he saw that the scallion pancakes he made earlier still had some warmth to them. With eyes full of admiration, Xi Muqiao picked one up and placed it in his mouth, "Little bastard, just treat this as the interest on the wounds you've left on my body and mind."

After he finished eating, Xi Muqiao wiped his hands, his lips curled up into a faint smile, and a smile blossomed on his face. He could even imagine what kind of expression Little Rascal would have when it discovered that there was less cake.

As he walked out of the kitchen, the man touched the corner of his mouth. He felt relaxed between his brows. It had been so many years, but this was the first time he felt so calm. He waved at Leftie who was standing behind him. "You, go to the hospital …"