Reborn to Redeem: Their Abusive Love
Chapter 27: Rose in the Water

Chapter 27: Chapter 27: Rose in the Water

At the chaotic dockside.

The flashbulbs of reporters thundered.

Anshi appeared, rather inopportunely, taking a white envelope from his pocket and standing humbly yet reasonably before the damp Xu Zhiqiang. He spoke softly, "The Young Miss has considered that you all went through an ordeal at the Xu Family, and now that you’re safe, you surely wouldn’t dare return to stay there. Here are three plane tickets to America and three boat tickets as a token of the Young Miss’s kindness and concern. Please accept them."

An overt expulsion.

Xu Zhiqiang’s face darkened; he didn’t reach out but instead huffed heavily.

Xu Zhi’an sighed, extending his hand. His sleeve was heavy and damp, reeking of foul water. "Understood, I’ll go back."

"Then, on behalf of the Young Miss, I wish your family a safe journey."

Having delivered the tickets, Anshi drove off in the black car, disappearing into the night without looking back.

Xu Si sat in the back of the car, feeling the moist sea breeze on her face. Her pale fingers propped up her chin, and her eyes were closed. She had settled the bankruptcy, and with it, the humiliation of five hundred thousand. The vexation in her heart had also dissipated by half.

During the ride, while they waited for pedestrians to pass, someone turned on the car radio.

After a burst of trendsetting music from the eighties filled the air, it was abruptly interrupted by a news broadcast.

"We now bring you the latest news from Hong Kong Island. The recent shooting and abduction case has finally come to an end, with the hostage safely returned to Hong Kong Island. Citizens need not panic."

A casual complaint drifted through the half-open car window, slowly reaching Xu Si’s ears.

"The news about the Xu Family these days is really overwhelming. They’re so domineering, taking over all channels and causing a fuss for days on end. I’m sick of it. Finally, it’s over."

Xu Si turned her head.

It was a truck driver, dangling a cigarette. He was also listening to the radio. Seeing Xu Si, he even smiled and said, "You think so, right?"

She nodded, quietly shifted her gaze back to the thick night ahead, and curled her lips slightly.

Is it over? I don’t know.

But under the distraction of the noisy music, Anshi had to raise his voice to discuss the upcoming arrangements with Xu Si.

"Young Miss, shall we return to the Xu Mansion tonight, or to the hospital?"

Xu Si, caressing the almost invisible lines on her fingertips, replied in a soft, delicate voice, "Let’s go back to the Xu Mansion."

The pedestrians had finished crossing.

VROOM—!

The engine of the luxury car Xu Si was in roared powerfully. Its wheels spun rapidly, and the car swiftly disappeared down the long, wide road, leaving only an elegant trail of tire marks and a slowly fading wisp of exhaust.

The truck driver was left disheveled in the wind.

What had he just heard? The Xu Mansion!?

He touched his nose, taking out his barely smoked cigarette. He turned to his co-driver, who was still sleeping. "Hey, hey, wake up! I’ve had quite an eye-opener today. You know how they say, ’Don’t gossip about people during the day, and don’t talk about ghosts at night’? It’s true!"

"I’m trying to sleep here! What the hell are you talking about?"

The driver spoke excitedly, "I’m telling you, I just ran into that young lady from the Xu Family! The one who’s always on the news lately. I even complained about the recent news right in front of her. Scary, right?"

His colleague propped himself up, haphazardly scratching his head before fishing out another cigarette from beneath the smelly leather seat and sticking it between his lips. "You’re talking nonsense. Do you think young ladies like her are that easy to come by? Are you just too tired? Let me drive."

"How could it not be her? She said she’s going back to the Xu Mansion! And how many Xu Mansions are there on Hong Kong Island? Which family named Xu would dare call their home the Xu Mansion, huh? If I’d known, I would’ve said something nice. If she were in a good mood, she might have even given me the car."

His colleague spat disdainfully, laughing as he scolded, "You’re dreaming! Out of your mind! If you want to get rich, focus on your driving!"

「When Xu Si returned.」

It was already six in the morning.

The entire Xu Mansion was so quiet that only the sound of the morning breeze could be heard. The Phoenix Tree was shrouded in dew, and there was no sign of anyone. Even Butler Ge had just awoken and was standing in the reception hall to greet Xu Si.

These old butlers were the most disciplined. No matter how early it was, they always remained alert and composed when facing their employers.

"Young Miss, would you like to have breakfast first, or rest?"

"I’ll rest first."

Xu Si drank a glass of water and then went upstairs to wash and rest.

The morning wind blew for half an hour before sunlight tore a gap in the grey, clouded sky.

The temperature at this hour was surprisingly low. Despite wearing heavy layers, one could still feel a bone-chilling cold that made you want to involuntarily curl up under the cold covers.

But there was someone in the Xu Mansion who never indulged in lying in bed.

When Pei Zhen emerged from his room, he was already washed and dressed. The cloth bandage on his hand had been removed and replaced with a more skin-friendly, discreet adhesive strip.

He went to the study, searched along the bookshelves, and pulled out a book on psychological research. He sat under the light to read.

His long fingers would pause in thought before turning each page, like an earnest patient searching for the right cure for his ailment.

Eventually, his gaze inadvertently rested on a row of ink prints in the farthest corner.

It read:

["Survivor Syndrome," also known as "Survivor’s Guilt," is a manifestation of acute stress disorder following psychological trauma. It presents as a pathological psychological disturbance resulting from catastrophic events, whether man-made or natural. It is primarily characterized by depression, nightmares, or auditory, visual, or tactile hallucinations related to specific triggers, leading to a series of adverse reactions such as shock and fear.]

He pondered for a moment. This wasn’t what he had been looking for, yet it was strangely captivating.

Just then, Butler Ge knocked and entered. "Young Master Pei," he said, "the relatives have departed. The tables and chairs in the courtyard need to be replaced. The Young Miss asked me to inquire, as you often read there, whether you would prefer them to match a specific color or material?"

Pei Zhen shook his head politely. "There’s no need. Anything is fine with me."

"Very well." Butler Ge bowed and, with his hands behind his back, closed the heavy door.

Pei Zhen continued reading under the lamp.

Gradually, he thought of something else.

That day in the hospital, he had overheard what his aunt said to Anshi.

"Buy that newspaper agency. Take all the copies they distributed today to the crematorium and burn them."

He also recalled Chen Shihua mentioning in the past that his aunt had pinned her own son—Pei Zhen’s cousin—to a coffin and beaten him.

He was only now beginning to realize. Perhaps there was a possibility that the gentle Xu Si he knew and the one she presented to outsiders were two completely different people.

That early morning, the dew was heavy, damp, and cold.

The young man sat in a wide chair, slowly closing his eyes. The dim lamplight illuminated only half his face; the other half was lost in shadow. A few strands of ash-grey hair fell across his forehead, swaying slightly.

In the darkness behind his closed eyelids, he thought he saw Xu Si’s captivating, upturned peach-blossom eyes.

Instantly, Pei Zhen opened his eyes again. He turned his head to the side, casting his whole face into the darkness, his lips curling into an even warmer, more radiant smile.

He rose to fetch his diary. His pale fingers grasped a fountain pen, and on the lined paper, he inscribed several lines of flowing English script.

Translated, it read:

[The water is ice-cold. I want to be with the beautiful flower. It has fierce thorns, yet they are never turned towards me. This might be what books describe as a special preference.]