After leaving the villa.
Chu Yu was full of questions to ask Luo Chejue, but he didn’t know how to start asking. He recalled in details every word that had just been exchanged between Luo Chejue and Xia Mo, and pondered about it silently.
What he was certain at the moment was that Luo Chejue had never loved Xia Mo, and he’d just tried to put up a show with Xia Mo for the public to see four years ago. But what for?
If who he’d loved was Xia Weiwei, why would he have forced her to divorce him? Chu Yu had witnessed everything back then, and Luo Chejue’s behavior didn’t show that he had cared about her.
The more Chu Yu thought, the tighter his brows were knitted, not noticing at all that they’d arrived at the destination. When he looked up, wanting to start asking about everything, he couldn’t help but stare in utter disbelief.
He opened his mouth, only to find his voice a few moments later: “this, this was when…?”
Luo Chejue didn’t respond, but his gaze was soft and meaningful.
Chu Yu swallowed, his guess in heart being confirmed, and understood why Luo Chejue had asked him to help.
Luo Chejue turned around with seriousness never seen on his face before: “Yu, I’ll leave it to you now.”
How could Chu Yu have not known the weight in his tone? He nodded solemnly, and seeing that Luo Chejue was turning to leave, he couldn’t help saying, “Jue, what have you had for Xia Weiwei exactly? Though the whole thing is now behind us, I don’t want to see you regret it.”
He wanted him to think clearly, which could at least bring some peace to the long dead Xia Weiwei.
Luo Chejue paused and said “I know” before he left.
What had he had for Xia Weiwei?
Luo Chejue’s fingertip traced the words, “The tomb of Ms. Luo, Xia Weiwei”, and was at a loss watching Xia Weiwei’s smile on her portrait of the headstone.
Four years ago, he moved Xia Weiwei’s tomb to the Luo’s cemetery, but the urn was not in it. No one had expected that he had always been wearing their wedding ring on his left ring finger with Xia Weiwei’s name carved inside.
Yes, he’d loved her, but he had been unwilling to face his emotion. The Luo family had always been heartless, and he’d been educated this way, and hadn’t wanted to admit that he had also been entangled by such ridiculous romantic feelings.
But when had it started? Every night since Xia Weiwei’s death, he had lain in his empty room filled with smoke from his cigarettes, trying hard to recall everything they had gone through together.
Perhaps it had started ten years ago, when she began to pester him. He had watched coldly her unreserved love, as she bravely and straightforwardly broke into his world, and his heart had been trapped unnoticeably.
All about her had been intentionally emptied by him, but somehow they remained so clear in his mind, stabbing his heart.
Luo Chejue turned around and saw his mother’s headstone aside. He knew Chu Yu’s question. Since he’d loved her, why had he treated her like that?
Because he’d loved Xia Weiwei but also hated her.
The Luo family was not an ordinary family. The Luos had always attached great importance to the family interests to the extent of being utterly unfeeling. The exception was Luo Chejue’s mother, who had loved his father, as much as Xia Weiwei had loved Luo Chejue, but in return, what she had gained were mere guest-like and on-the-surface respect of the family, so slowly, she had passed all her love to her son, Luo Chejue, whose only warmth had come from her.
Some of Xia Mo’s words were true. Luo Chejue had born it like a fishbone in his throat about what’d been between Yan Shaoxuan and Xia Weiwei, as well as the connection of his mother’s death with Xia Weiwei.
He couldn’t accept that Xia Weiwei had caused his mother’s death, nor could he accept the love between her and Yan Shaoxuan, but Luo Chejue had still tried in his own way to protect her.
Yes, four years ago, Luo Chejue was actually trying to protect Xia Weiwei.