Dust

Lu Chenyuan quickly finished showing Mo Qingli around the places where he and his siblings had once lived, then led her to Lu Mingye’s study.

The door to the study was slightly ajar.

Lu Chenyuan pushed it open.

A musty scent, mingled with the aroma of premium cigars and ink, rushed toward them.

Lu Mingye sat behind a massive mahogany desk, a symbol of authority.

He was reading a document, as if using it to mask his nervousness.

At the sound of the door, he looked up.

When his eyes landed on Lu Chenyuan, there was little reaction—as though his son had merely returned from a long trip.

Then his gaze moved past Lu Chenyuan and settled on the small child cradled in his arms.

Lu Mingye’s body stiffened instantly.

Almost reflexively, he removed his glasses and slowly rose to his feet.

His eyes fixed on Lu Shi’an’s delicate, porcelain-like face.

That face bore traces of Lu Chenyuan’s features, the contours of Mo Qingli’s beauty, and—most unmistakably—the indelible mark of the Lu family’s bloodline.

Lu Mingye’s lips trembled faintly.

He wanted to speak, but his throat seemed clogged, rendering him voiceless.

"Father."

Lu Chenyuan spoke calmly.

Mo Qingli also inclined her head slightly.

"Father."

Lu Mingye finally managed to tear his gaze away from the child and looked at Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli.

He studied his extraordinarily accomplished son.

Then the equally remarkable, dignified woman beside him.

And the harmonious picture the three of them made standing together.

A storm of complicated emotions surged in Lu Mingye’s chest.

Embarrassment. Shame. Helplessness.

But above all, a long-overdue flicker of regret.

"...You’re back," he finally managed, his voice hoarse and brittle.

"Yes."

"Have a seat." He gestured toward the nearby sofa.

Uncle Yu entered at just the right moment, carrying a freshly brewed pot of tea and delicate pastries.

The four of them sat across from one another, separated by the weighty coffee table.

The atmosphere grew stifling once more.

It was Lu Shi’an who broke the silence.

Sensing the tension, he squirmed in Lu Chenyuan’s arms.

Then, suddenly, the little boy stretched out a tiny hand, babbling in Lu Mingye’s direction.

Lu Mingye’s heart clenched as if gripped by that small hand.

Instinctively, he reached out—as if to take the child.

But halfway, his hand froze midair.

Then, awkwardly, he withdrew it.

He didn’t know how to face this grandson.

Mo Qingli noticed his discomfort—and his longing.

Smiling softly, she whispered to the boy in her arms,

"An’an, look. That’s your grandpa."

Lu Shi’an, of course, couldn’t respond. He simply stared with wide, innocent eyes at the unfamiliar old man before him.

The word "grandpa" struck something deep in Lu Mingye’s heart.

His eyes grew inexplicably warm.

Flustered, he turned away, lifting his teacup to take a large sip, trying to mask his emotions.

...

"Liu Mei and her child are living well now."

Lu Chenyuan spoke abruptly, his tone detached, as if stating an irrelevant fact.

Lu Mingye’s hand jerked, spilling tea unnoticed.

He looked up at his son, stunned.

Ever since Li Xiujian’s arrest—ever since Liu Mei herself admitted she had never loved him, that everything had been part of her mission, a calculated performance—

Half of Lu Mingye’s world had crumbled.

The love he’d been so proud of, the "true love" for which he’d hurt his family, had been nothing but an elaborate lie.

He’d become a complete joke.

Since then, he’d never contacted Liu Mei or her son again.

"The Yuanlong Charity Fund sponsored a community center near their neighborhood," Lu Chenyuan continued, his voice still calm.

"She works there now as a full-time social worker. The pay isn’t high, but it’s stable. The child attends public school, living just like any ordinary kid."

He was simply telling his father that the mother and son had been settled onto a safe, quiet path.

Far from the dramas of wealthy families. No longer a disturbance to anyone.

"I won’t interfere in their lives," Lu Chenyuan met his father’s gaze, offering a promise. "And never will."

Lu Mingye slowly set down his cup.

He studied his son.

This son was calmer—kinder—than he’d ever imagined.

He’d thought Lu Chenyuan would use this to humiliate him, to retaliate for his past foolishness and betrayal.

But he didn’t.

Instead, with the utmost composure and grace, he drew a final line under that mistaken chapter.

"Father." Lu Chenyuan looked at him, at the hair that had turned gray and the deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes without him noticing.

"Life is a long marathon."

"Nothing is truly over yet."

Lu Mingye was utterly speechless. He stared blankly at Lu Chenyuan.

Suddenly, he realized he might never have truly understood this son of his.

He’d always assumed Lu Chenyuan’s calmness was innate indifference.

That his strength stemmed from coldness.

Only now did he see—

Behind that composure and power lay a generosity and gentleness he, as a father, had never possessed.

A quiet strength born only from bearing mountainous responsibilities and witnessing the vastness of the world.

And how miserably, how laughably he had failed as a father.

A murky tear finally escaped, rolling down Lu Mingye’s aged cheek.

...

When they left the Lu estate, the sunset dyed half the sky crimson.

Lu Mingye insisted on seeing them to the gate.

He stood on the high steps, watching the black car glide away, disappearing around the bend of the tree-lined road.

Until it vanished entirely.

Then he turned, gazing at the grand, magnificent—yet hollow, silent—manor behind him.

For the first time, he felt unbearably alone.

And yet, strangely unburdened.

In the car, Lu Shi’an had fallen asleep, his breathing even.

Mo Qingli reached over, gently covering Lu Chenyuan’s hand on the steering wheel.

She said nothing.

But he knew—she understood.

He turned his hand, interlacing their fingers.

Her palm was warm and soft.

"It’s all in the past," he said.

"Yes," Mo Qingli replied softly, looking ahead.

The car merged into the glittering stream of traffic returning to the city.

An old era of the Lu family manor had come to an end.