The Manor Frozen in Time

The renovation project for Cloud Peak One officially began.

Mo Qingli rejected all proposals from top designers and picked up the drafting pen herself.

What she intended to design was not a lavish showroom, but a home.

A real home for her, Lu Chenyuan, and Lu Shi'an.

Every line, every material, was personally selected by her.

The fortress that once symbolized Lu Chenyuan’s cold, restrained, and even reclusive nature was gradually deconstructed and rebuilt under her pen.

The icy metal wall decorations were removed and replaced with warm, smooth walnut paneling.

The vast, echoing living room was redesigned, with one entire wall transformed into floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

On the other side was a children’s play area for Lu Shi'an, covered with thick woolen rugs.

Lu Chenyuan didn’t interfere with any specific design choices.

He simply draped a soft blanket over her shoulders when she worked late into the night and handed her a cup of warm milk at just the right temperature.

Quietly standing behind her, his steady presence offered silent support.

During the renovation, Lu Chenyuan’s family moved downstairs, settling into Mo Qingli’s old apartment.

Little Lu Shi'an grew day by day under his parents’ loving care.

He could now pull himself up unsteadily, gripping the sofa railing for support.

His favorite daily activity was watching his mother spread out large blueprints on the floor and sketch with colored pencils.

Then, he would stretch out his chubby little hands, babbling as he tried to grasp the flowing, wondrous lines and colors in his eyes.

The noise of the outside world seemed to fade away in this small haven.

The chief strategy consultant of Abyss Dragon Technologies now devoted his most important tasks to precisely calculating his son’s milk formula ratios and repeatedly testing the absorbency of different diaper brands.

The iron-willed queen of the Mo Group found her greatest joy in planning the placement of every electrical outlet in their new home and agonizing over the sweet dilemma of choosing curtain colors.

They reveled in it all, savoring every moment.

That afternoon, golden sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Mo Qingli watched her son diligently practicing crawling in his play area and suddenly spoke up.

“Chenyuan, let’s go back to the Lu Family Manor.”

Lu Chenyuan was reading a report on the latest global trends in the new energy market.

At her words, he looked up, his expression unsurprised.

Some things ultimately required a proper farewell.

“Alright,” he replied gently.

Mo Qingli met his gaze and added, “Let’s bring Shi'an along.”

Let him meet the man referred to as his grandfather by blood.

And let him see the place where his father had once grown up.

Lu Chenyuan nodded, warmth rising in his chest.

Qingli always understood—quietly, perceptively—the deepest, unspoken thoughts in his heart.

Truthfully, Lu Chenyuan held no affection for the Lu Family Manor or Lu Mingye.

Yet, as if remnants of his former self’s memories lingered, he still felt something different about that place.

And for Lu Shi'an, it was time to meet his grandfather.

The grudges and grievances of the older generation had little to do with him.

The next day, a sleek black "Boundless" sedan glided smoothly out of the city and onto the private road leading to the western suburbs.

Outside the window, the towering skyscrapers gradually gave way to sprawling greenery and distant rolling hills.

Lu Shi'an sat in his custom safety seat, his bright, curious eyes fixed on the scenery whizzing past.

Mo Qingli sat beside him, gently shaking a rattle to capture his attention.

Lu Chenyuan drove in silence.

An hour later, the car slowed to a stop before the grand gates of a stately manor.

The black wrought-iron gates, adorned with the ancient Lu family crest, stood solemn and imposing under the sunlight.

This was the Lu Family Manor.

Once one of the most prestigious estates in Jingzhou.

The gates slid open soundlessly.

The car proceeded down a long tree-lined driveway.

On either side stretched manicured gardens, fountains, sculptures, and endless lawns.

Everything was just as grand and magnificent as Lu Chenyuan remembered.

And just as cold and lifeless.

The car halted at the fountain plaza in front of the main residence.

The elderly butler, Uncle Yu, was already waiting at the entrance.

When he saw Lu Chenyuan step out of the driver’s seat, Uncle Yu’s face lit up with barely contained emotion.

“Young Master, you’ve returned.” His voice trembled slightly.

To Uncle Yu, the young master before him seemed almost unfamiliar.

Lu Chenyuan hadn’t stepped foot in the manor since moving out—nearly seven or eight years had passed.

“Uncle Yu,” Lu Chenyuan acknowledged with a nod.

To his former self, this old butler who had watched him grow up was one of the few warm memories in this cold estate.

Mo Qingli, holding Lu Shi'an, also exited the car.

Uncle Yu’s gaze immediately fell upon the small child, his face softening into a genuine, tender smile.

“This must be… the little young master.”

“Yes, his name is Lu Shi'an,” Mo Qingli replied with a smile.

“Ah, good, a fine name,” Uncle Yu murmured approvingly.

“The Master is in his study,” he finally added in a hushed tone.

Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli exchanged a glance.

“We’ll go in ourselves, Uncle Yu. You may attend to your duties,” Lu Chenyuan said.

He took Lu Shi'an from Mo Qingli’s arms, cradling him carefully.

Then, they ascended the cold marble steps.

They passed through the vast, echoing foyer, where their footsteps reverberated, and walked down the long corridor lined with priceless paintings.

Everything was impeccably maintained—spotless, gleaming.

But it was too quiet.

Lu Chenyuan suddenly paused in the second-floor hallway.

“What is it?” Mo Qingli asked softly.

“Let me show you around,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the rows of closed doors on either side.

The rooms of Lu Chenxiao, Lu Chenyan, and Lu Chenjin now stood empty, though still cleaned daily.

As they passed Lu Qianqian’s room, they noticed the door was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse inside.

Pink drapes, oversized plush toys, a walk-in closet filled with luxury brands.

“Qianqian’s room.”

Mo Qingli took in the space overflowing with indulgence, recalling the girl from the video—surrounded by children, laughing brightly under the sun.

“She found something that suits her better than princess dresses,” Mo Qingli murmured.

“Yes,” Lu Chenyuan agreed.

He closed the door, sealing away those memories once more.

Finally, they reached the other end of the hallway.

There stood a door identical to his brothers’, yet somehow more imposing.

“That was my room,” Lu Chenyuan said.

He pushed it open.

The room’s aesthetic was strikingly similar to the original Cloud Peak One—minimalist furniture, every item placed with precision.

The only trace of personal identity in the room was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, densely packed with hardcover books on economics, finance, and management—not a single leisure read in sight.

This didn’t feel like a young man’s bedroom.

It was more like… an exhibition hall for precision instruments, a place of discipline so severe it bordered on asceticism.

Mo Qingli stepped inside, her fingertips lightly grazing the cold surface of the desk.

The room held no trace of youthful restlessness or warmth—only the weight of responsibility and solitude.

She glanced at Lu Chenyuan, who was holding Lu Shi'an, his expression now softened with quiet composure.

Then her gaze returned to the stark, empty space around them.

It was as if two versions of him from different times had overlapped in this moment.

She didn’t speak, only moved closer to smooth the slightly crumpled collar of his shirt where he held the child.

Then she took his hand again.

“This place used to be lively,” he said, turning to her.

“There was my mother’s occasional sighs, my brothers’ bickering, Qianqian’s playful whining.”

“Now, they’ve all left.”

“Mother has moved on. My brothers are shining in their own fields. Qianqian—she’s on the other side of the world, chasing her dreams.”

All that remained here was the fading shadow of an era, and dust.