After everything was tidied up, Han Yiwei couldn't quite tell what he was feeling in that moment. Excited? Perhaps a little. But the heaviness seemed far greater.
This was a place he could never forget, the eternal wound etched deeply into his memory, leaving an imprint so profound, so indelible.
The atmosphere inside the car during the entire ride was suffocatingly bleak. Only when the car reached its destination, Han Yiwei—silent and somber in the backseat—remained expressionless.
The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror and, after a few minutes, broke the silence nervously, saying, "President Han, we've arrived."
Han Yiwei nodded stiffly, his face unmoved, and said, "Mm, let's go."
The moment Han Yiwei stepped onto this land, the restless turmoil in his heart instantly settled. So many years had passed, and he had long since forged himself into steel and stone. He was no longer the small, fragile version of himself.
