HNYWEF -Chapter 135 Absolute Strangeness

Zhou Yi stood there, staring at his father.

The smell of scorched tea leaves in the room grew stronger and stronger, mixing with the cold wind pouring in from the doorway—an indescribably strange combination.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

Footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.

More than one person.

Zhou Yi turned back.

Three figures were walking across the courtyard toward this place.

The leader wore a dark robe and moved quickly.

Li Shimin. Cheng Yaojin. Qin Qiong.

They reached the doorway and stopped.

Then all three of them froze at the same time.

Zhou Xiong was still sitting by the window, holding a smoking paper roll between his fingers, inhaling it one puff after another.

White smoke drifted from his mouth and dispersed into the air.

The table was scattered with broken tea leaves and scraps of paper. Several empty wine jars lay on the ground. The entire room was in complete disarray.

Cheng Yaojin’s mouth fell open.

Qin Qiong frowned deeply.

Li Shimin stood there, motionless.

He looked at Zhou Xiong. He looked at the thing in Zhou Xiong’s hand. He looked at the strands of white smoke drifting away. He looked at that expressionless face.

It felt as if his mind had been struck by a heavy blow.

What… is this?

Cheng Yaojin was the first to react.

He strode forward and grabbed Zhou Xiong’s wrist, snatching the paper roll away.

Zhou Xiong’s hand went empty and simply hung there, unmoving.

Cheng Yaojin lowered his head and glanced at what was in his hand—it was a paper roll, burned down to half, still emitting smoke.

He frowned, turned, and walked a few steps to the doorway, then threw it into the bucket of water Zhou Yi had brought.

With a sharp “sizzle,” white smoke rose and then disappeared.

Cheng Yaojin turned back, opening his mouth to curse—

“Zhou Xiong! You damn—”

But he never finished.

Zhou Xiong spoke.

The voice was squeezed out from deep in his throat, strange and unsettling in tone.

“What are you doing! Ah-ha… ah… oh…”

The cadence didn’t sound like speech. It sounded like singing—or chanting. Drawn out, rising and falling in an eerie rhythm.

His face showed no expression. His eyes stared straight at Cheng Yaojin.

It was as if what had just been extinguished in the water wasn’t fire—but his very soul.

Cheng Yaojin’s words stuck in his throat.

He stood there, mouth open, staring at Zhou Xiong.

Zhou Xiong stared back.

The two of them locked eyes.

The room fell into absolute silence.

Cheng Yaojin’s mind went blank.

What is this?

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

He turned his head and looked toward the other two at the doorway.

Li Shimin stood there, stunned into immobility.

Qin Qiong stood beside him, his brow furrowed so tightly it looked like he could crush a fly between them.

Cheng Yaojin’s eyes said: I can’t handle this. You deal with it.

Li Shimin didn’t move.

He just stood there, looking at Zhou Xiong.

Looking at that face, those hollow eyes, and replaying that eerie, hair-raising sound in his mind.

Something strange rose within him.

Not anger. Not guilt. Not fear.

Something else.

He couldn’t describe it.

Li Shimin finally snapped back to himself.

He looked at Zhou Xiong—this man who had once kicked him, who had cut a man’s tendons in the court, who had smashed Cheng Yaojin with an empty wine jar.

And now this same man sat by the window, speaking in a bizarre tone no one could understand.

Li Shimin’s throat moved.

He turned his head toward Zhou Yi.

The boy had been standing in the corner the entire time, not moving at all.

Li Shimin spoke.

His voice came from deep in his throat, carrying a tone he had never used before.

A choked, almost crying tone.

“Zhou Yi…”

Zhou Yi looked at him.

Li Shimin said, “Your father… he…”

He couldn’t continue.

He just stood there, looking at Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi looked back at him.

They stared at each other.

Cheng Yaojin stood by the window, fists clenched, not knowing what to do.

Qin Qiong stood at the doorway, completely still.

Zhou Yi suddenly felt his eyes turn red.

But he did not cry.

He took a deep breath.

“…Mm.”

Just one word.

Very soft.

Li Shimin looked at him, wanting to say something, but not knowing what.

He nodded.

Just once.

Then he turned and walked out.

Cheng Yaojin and Qin Qiong followed behind him.

At the doorway, Li Shimin suddenly stopped.

He didn’t turn back.

He stood there for a breath.

Then he kept walking.

Footsteps faded away.

The courtyard fell silent.

Only Zhou Xiong and Zhou Yi remained in the room.

Zhou Yi stood in front of him, looking at him.

And as he looked, he slowly crouched down.

He crouched in front of his father.

And took his father’s hand.

That hand was cold, dry, and covered in thick calluses.

Zhou Xiong’s hand moved slightly.

Just once.

As if it had sensed something.

Zhou Yi did not let go.

He stayed there, crouched, holding his father’s hand, looking at his father’s face.

Outside the window, the sky was still gray.

The clouds hung low.

As if it was about to rain.

Or as if it was holding itself back from doing so.