Song Qingxing's odd behavior lasted only for an instant, but the chill he radiated sent a shiver down the spines of Song Yuan and the others.
"Elder Brother, I'm going to take a look."
Seeing him leave his seat, Song Yuan and Song Qingxi tactfully chose not to follow. The two brothers, Song Tang and Song Jun, wanted to go, but the moment they moved, a cold glare from their father stopped them dead in their tracks.
CREAK—
Song Qingxing gently pushed open the large, red-lacquered door. A long-forgotten feeling washed over him. The room's furnishings were unchanged from the day he had left home.
The room was spotless, and nothing showed any sign of decay. Someone must have been cleaning it regularly.
Though this was his first time back inside, every corner of the room was uncannily familiar to him.
He walked to the wardrobe. Inside, several sets of clothes were neatly folded—all from his childhood, and all of them black.
