Red Wall and the Mortal World

The dawn in Jingzhou arrived earlier than in most cities.

After three years of oppressive gloom, even the sunlight seemed exceptionally crisp and clear.

Lu Chenyuan's family had returned to their apartment at Cloud Peak Residences No. 1, adjusting to the time difference.

Lou Mengling and Lin Shuhan stayed with Lu Shi'an in the apartment below Mo Qingli's unit.

Wang Tongwen had taken his leave—he needed to handle backlogged affairs at the gallery and also wanted to give Lou Mengling space for her own reflections.

The vast penthouse was now occupied only by Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli.

And the quiet that belonged solely to them.

At nine in the morning, Lu Chenyuan's private phone rang—an unfamiliar number.

He answered, and a composed middle-aged voice spoke on the other end.

The message was delivered in the most concise manner:

"Mr. Lu, a car is waiting for you downstairs."

"Understood," Lu Chenyuan replied.

He hung up without the slightest surprise.

Mo Qingli sat on the sofa, scrolling through summaries of Mo Corporation's recent updates on her tablet.

She wasn’t scrutinizing the data, just skimming the project codes—familiar yet distant—as if confirming that they had truly returned.

Hearing Lu Chenyuan end the call, she looked up.

"Going out?"

"Yes, to a place," he said.

He didn’t specify where.

She didn’t ask.

Instead, she stood, walked to the entryway, and retrieved his leather shoes from the cabinet, placing them gently on the floor.

Then she went to the walk-in closet and brought out a dark, lightweight trench coat.

"It’s windy outside," she said.

Lu Chenyuan approached, took the coat, and slipped it on.

Mo Qingli reached up to adjust his collar, smoothing it with her fingers as if smoothing an invisible wrinkle.

Her fingertips were slightly cool. Lu Chenyuan took her hand.

"Don’t worry."

"I’ll wait for you to come back for dinner," Mo Qingli said, meeting his gaze steadily.

"Alright."

He turned and left.

The elevator descended smoothly.

When he stepped out of the building, a black Hongqi sedan sat quietly in the open space before the entrance.

Its lines were dignified, understated.

The license plate was simple, yet carried a weight unimaginable to ordinary people.

A uniformed driver stood beside the car.

Seeing Lu Chenyuan, he gave a slight nod and opened the rear door for him.

Lu Chenyuan stepped inside.

The door shut, sealing away all outside noise.

The car pulled away smoothly, merging into Jingzhou’s traffic.

No police escort, no special clearance.

It was like a drop of water dissolving into the ocean.

Outside the window, the scenery rushed backward—skyscrapers, overpasses, familiar streets.

Lu Chenyuan watched it all.

Three years ago, he had stood here, gazing into the distance, bracing for an unknown storm.

Now, he had returned. The storm had passed, and the world was at peace.

Eventually, the car approached a stretch of red walls.

The surrounding architecture grew more solemn, dignified.

Tall walls muted the city’s clamor, and the air itself seemed steeped in the weight of history.

The car stopped before a towering vermilion gate. The driver stepped out to open Lu Chenyuan’s door.

A staff member in plain gray attire was already waiting.

"Mr. Lu, please follow me."

Lu Chenyuan walked behind him along a path of bluestone, flanked by ancient pines.

No gilded opulence—only a quiet, unadorned gravity.

After walking for about ten minutes, Lu Chenyuan arrived in front of an antiquated study.

"Mr. Lu, please."

The staff member pushed open the heavy wooden door and gestured for him to enter.

Lu Chenyuan stepped inside.

The study was spacious, lofty, and utterly silent.

All four walls were lined with towering bookshelves that reached the ceiling.

The air carried the faint fragrance of ink and paper.

A figure stood by the window, his back turned, gazing at a crabapple tree outside.

Though not particularly tall, the man exuded an air of unshakable dignity, like a mountain standing firm against the tides.

Lu Chenyuan stopped and waited without speaking.

After a moment, the figure turned around.

It was an elderly man familiar—yet distant—to every citizen of Xia.

"You're here."

The old man's voice was calm, as if he were merely chatting with a younger relative.

"Leader," Lu Chenyuan responded solemnly.

"Sit."

The old man gestured toward the seating area nearby.

There, only two simple wooden armchairs stood.

On the low table between them, a pot of tea had already been prepared.

The two sat facing each other, with no one else present.

The old man personally lifted the teapot and poured a cup for Lu Chenyuan.

The tea was clear, steam curling gently from its surface.

"You've worked hard these past few years," the old man said, breaking the silence first.

"It was my duty," Lu Chenyuan replied.

"Hmm." The old man nodded, his tone no different from that of a kindly grandfather next door.

He studied the young man before him—around thirty, yet with a depth and steadiness in his eyes far beyond his years.

From the very beginning, he had watched the storm that swept the globe.

Every move by J Country, every pressure from A Country.

Yuanlong's counterattacks, Hanqing's resilience, Lianshan's maneuvers.

And the coordinated efforts of Xia's relevant departments.

He understood it all.

He knew what this young man and his family had endured.

And he knew what they had won back for their nation.

"I didn’t ask you here today to reward you. History will judge that in due time."

The old man’s gaze grew distant.

"I want to hear your thoughts on the future."

He paused, then added,

"The future of Yuanlong. The future of Xia’s enterprises."

"And you, Lu Chenyuan—your personal future."

……

The two spoke for a long time.

But no one knew the specifics of their conversation.

When Lu Chenyuan finally rose to leave, the old man said, "Go ahead and act boldly."

Then he added, "The nation stands firmly behind you."

No promises, no documents.

Just those simple words.

After Lu Chenyuan left, the old man stood and returned to the window.

He seemed to be speaking to himself—or perhaps to someone unseen.

"When I was young, I loved looking at the stars."

"I always thought the answers to humanity’s ultimate questions lay up there."

"Our young people now… it seems they’ll be the ones to go and ask for me—for all of us."

……

By the time Lu Chenyuan stepped beyond the red walls, it was noon, the sunlight bright and warm.

The Hongqi car was still waiting for him in the same spot.

On the way back, Lu Chenyuan leaned against the seat, eyes closed.

His mind wasn’t replaying the earlier conversation.

Instead, he was thinking about what to cook for Mo Qingli at lunch.

The fridge was nearly empty.

He could have someone deliver a sea bass.

Steamed sea bass would be good.

And stir-fried tomatoes and eggs—she always liked that…

……

An hour later, the car came to a stop at the foot of Yunding No. 1.

After Lu Chenyuan stepped out, the driver gave him another slight nod before discreetly driving away.

As if he had never been there at all.