The remainder of the ride was exceptionally quiet as Lucy Ansley and Henry Ronan stopped communicating altogether.
Approaching the red light at the CBD intersection, the man's steady voice broke the silence, "Since the last therapy session, have there been any symptoms of emotional separation disorder?"
Lucy, who had been quietly lost in thought, responded upon hearing the question, "No, I've been well these past few days."
Henry glanced sideways, his gaze lingering on the girl's face.
The warm yellow streetlights fell through the glass window beside her; she sat amid the mottled light and shadows, her long hair tied back, revealing a few traces of elegance and aloofness, exuding an air of an ethereal beauty detached from the world.
The man's Adam's apple gently moved, his eyes casually sweeping over the books on her lap, with the topmost one being "Algorithm Empire."
A programming foreign book.
In less than five minutes, the car stopped at the alley of Cloudsea Road.
The alley was dark and narrow, prompting Thomas Chapman to remind her, "Miss Ansley, the car can't go in, is your home far from here? Or... shall I accompany you for a bit?"
Lucy said there was no need, turned sideways to press the button, and looked at Henry, saying goodbye with an indifferent tone, "Thank you, I'm off."
The man didn't reply, deeply observing Lucy's movements, inexplicably desiring to see more emotions on her face.
Be it crying, laughing, anger, or mischievousness, any emotion would be good.
Shortly after, Henry brushed the creases on his trousers and then gracefully exited the car.
The man gestured with his chin toward the dark alley, "Where do you live?"
The girl stood still, a faint curve pulling at her lips, "No need to accompany me, it's very near."
"Let's go, it's dark on the road."
Henry's voice remained steady and affable, not deliberately considerate, yet embodying the mature demeanor unique to a well-composed man.
Although Lucy had emotional disorders, her cognition was perfectly normal.
The more indifferent the man acted, the more unshakeable his attitude seemed.
Thinking of this, Lucy sighed silently and made a courteous remark as she turned around, "Then I'll trouble you."
A faint echo resonated from Henry's nose as they walked side by side into the dark alley, with their shoulders half a foot apart.
Behind them, Thomas Chapman sat in the car, musing seriously to himself about how extraordinary Miss Ansley must be to have the esteemed Mr. Ronan personally escort her home.
The alley was dim and deep, eerily silent.
Lucy hugged her books, listening to the man's steady footsteps, trying to find some topics to pass the time.
There were still a few minutes to go from the alley entrance to the cabin, and without some conversation, the atmosphere would indeed be awkward and bizarre.
Perhaps sensing this, Henry adjusted his sleeve cuffs and casually asked, "Who else is there at home?"
Lucy's breath hitched, feeling somewhat resistant yet vaguely pondering how to deflect this topic.
At this moment, the man's gaze deepened, speaking with a tone almost able to penetrate everything, "Avoiding it will only worsen your condition, facing reality is more effective than evasion."
An unusual expression appeared on Lucy's face, her voice slightly drifting, "There's no one left, just me."
Henry turned his head slightly, glancing at Lucy, his smile exuding an approachable elegance, "Facing reality is painful, but it also makes you more clear-minded."
Unconsciously, Lucy slowed her steps, looking up at the nearly 190cm tall man, feeling much more at ease, "Is this part of your counseling therapy too?"
"No, it's not therapy." Henry slightly lowered his eyes, one hand in his pocket, looking graceful and composed, "It's just to gain a deeper understanding of my patient."
The man's guiding tone and open-heartedness were akin to a benevolent elder advising a younger person.
Lucy subtly examined Henry, unable to discern his real age.
Ultimately, she suppressed her questions, fearing she might offend this diligent therapist.
Within a few minutes, the dilapidated old house stood just ahead.
Lucy, holding her books in one hand, pointed toward the cabin, "I've arrived."
Henry gave it a simple glance, "The wind is strong at night, go inside."
The man stood in place, seemingly intending to see her enter before leaving.
This made Lucy regard him more profoundly.
Indeed, this gentleman was like a jade with virtues embedded deep within, unyielding and unwavering.
Lucy took out her keys, turning back to look at the man in the night shrouded in an aura like the wind, finally revealing a serene smile, "Goodnight."
...
At Cloud Summit villa, Henry entered after twelve thirty at night.
Passing the fountain at the front, Uncle Li, the butler, quickly came out, "Mr. Ronan, the old madam has arrived."
The man glanced at his watch, his handsome face instantly darkening, "When did she arrive? Why was I not notified?"
Uncle Li sheepishly rubbed his hands, murmuring in a low voice, "The old madam arrived a little after 8, she didn't allow us to inform you, insisting—insisting on seeing what you do going out early and returning late every day, and she's still waiting for you in the living room."
Henry pinched the bridge of his nose, stepping into the villa.
The living room was brightly lit.
Under the crystal light, an elderly lady with a kindly appearance was seated.
The old lady was dressed in a deep brown Tang suit, a string of Buddha Beads hanging from her chest, her eyes lowered, evidently fatigued.
Behind her stood several burly bodyguards.
"Old madam, Mr. Ronan has returned."
A bodyguard reminded her with a bow, the old lady relaxed her brow, asking in a ghostly tone, "Will you deign to come back?"
"Mm, just finished some work." The man sat down on a single sofa opposite, a lazy smile at his lips, "What breeze blew you here?"
The old lady's eyes hid sharpness and shrewdness, staring straight at Henry, as though seeing through everything, "If I didn't come, I suppose you'd forget who you are."
"You overstate it." The man draped his arm over the sofa, casually smiling, "I've indeed been busy lately, planning to visit the old house in a few days to play chess with you…"
"Spare me the sweet talk." The old lady interrupted with a faint anger, yet her words still brimmed with indulgence and helplessness, "Calculate the time yourself; how often have you returned to the mansion in nearly three months? Every day you seem busy with goodness knows what. Just happened to pass by today, so I came to see for myself who outside is enticing you, making you so reluctant to return home."
Henry crossed his legs, reaching for a box of tea cigarettes from the side drawer of the sofa, "Your visit to see me is a disguise for wanting to set up a marriage meeting."
The old lady suddenly sighed, speaking earnestly and sincerely, "Little Nine, it's not that Grandma is pushing you, you know…"
"I agree."
"Hmm?" The old lady straightened her back, turning to look at her bodyguards, "What did he say? Did I hear wrong?"
The bodyguard maintained a straight face, his voice loud and clear, "Old madam, you didn't hear wrong, Mr. Ronan said he agrees."