Chapter 22: I Have No Home

The girl spoke these words as if delivering a verdict, unilaterally ending the kinship that had lasted for eighteen years—a bond that had never been particularly close to begin with.

After she finished, she lifted her gaze, looked at him with a detached expression, and turned to walk away.

Mu Anyan watched her slender silhouette and was suddenly struck by a memory from when she was nearly three years old.

Back then, she was already speaking in complete sentences. Once, as they lay lazily under a sun chair basking in the warmth, she had tilted her little head curiously after listening to him talk: "Papa, what does 'happiness' mean?"

Mu Anyan had pondered for a moment. "Happiness..." Then, he gently kissed little Jiang Mugui on the forehead—she was just Mu Gui back then. "This is happiness."

But life is unpredictable. Happiness is such an extravagant and fleeting thing; it is constantly buried by various circumstances that tell you it was merely a ridiculous lie—a candy shell hiding poison, destined to be crushed. If one does not discover it and discard it early, one will only end up poisoned and dead.

It was ironic. He truly felt a sense of kinship toward her, but she likely felt none for him. In her memories, he had surely always been a cold figure, for people do not retain memories from before the age of three.

After smoking half a pack of cigarettes at the bar entrance, Mu Anyan finally turned and walked away.

That weekend, he finalized the divorce with Jiang Wei.

On that very day, Mu Anyan put an end to his life as he knew it. Since the fate between them had run its course, there was no need to force it—especially since Jiang Wei was never one to compromise her own comfort. As for Jiang Mugui, her life was just beginning; she would surely find her own happiness.

Yet, some things cannot simply be severed, leaving no trace behind.

After the National Day holiday, on his second day of a business trip to Haicheng, he received a call from Jiang Mugui’s teacher.

He initially assumed it was work-related, given that their project site was near her school. But when the female voice on the other end mentioned, "Your daughter has missed several classes and failed to show up for the midterm practical week. She is at risk of failing the first semester," he felt a familiar, throbbing headache.

His first instinct was to call Jiang Wei, but she didn’t pick up, reminding him that she had never concerned herself with the girl's studies either.

He had intended to ignore it, too, but remembering the many times she had looked at him with those damp, abandoned-looking eyes, he couldn't help but dial her number.

When Jiang Mugui saw his call, she was savoring a newly mixed Margarita. The bartender was handsome and witty, and she quite liked him. She froze for a moment, wondering why he was calling after she had made things so clear that day. Yet, seeing his name, her heart skipped a beat.

The bartender behind her immediately noticed her mood. "Oh? A boyfriend?"

Jiang Mugui looked at the bartender and said coolly, "Why, do I look like I’m talking to a boyfriend?"

The bartender pondered, "To be accurate, an ex-boyfriend."

Jiang Mugui hung up the call. "My father."

"Ah?" The bartender was dumbfounded, then quickly tried to recover, "Your father must not care about you much, then."

The remark hit home. She shot him a sharp look, and the handsome bartender hurriedly said, "Haha, don't be angry, Mugui. Let me mix you a drink to soothe your stomach."

Jiang Mugui hummed in acknowledgment. She rested her chin on her hand, watching the bartender perform his flamboyant routine, but her mood remained heavy. She suddenly realized that he and Jiang Wei must have finalized their divorce by now, and that they were both truly free. He was no longer her father, either.

But what about her? Was she now truly without a home?

She lifted her glass and downed the entire drink. The stinging, numbing sensation spread through her body, but it didn't make her feel any better.

Just then, her phone screen lit up again. It was Mu Anyan.

Jiang Mugui stared at the name for a long time. Only when it was about to hang up automatically did she press answer.

She didn't speak.

The man’s voice on the other end was deep. "Are you at a bar?"

Jiang Mugui hesitated for a long while, but did not lie. "Yes."

"Address."

She gripped her phone tightly. She didn't know what she felt, but she refused to give him the address or hang up, keeping him waiting.

The man waited with her. Finally, she gave him a location.

Twenty minutes later, he appeared at the bar entrance.

Jiang Mugui looked completely different from the girl of a few days ago. Her makeup wasn't heavy, but she looked utterly listless. Even in the darkness, Mu Anyan had a strong intuition that she had been in this state for days.

He stepped forward, his tone cold and stern. "You haven't been attending class, and you’ve been staying here every day?"

Jiang Mugui’s mood was no different from their last meeting; there was an indescribable distance between them. "That shouldn't be any of your business, should it?"

Mu Anyan sneered. "I wouldn't care if your teacher hadn't called my phone."

Jiang Mugui gripped her phone, refusing to speak. Mu Anyan suddenly reached out, caught her chin, and forced her to look at him.

She met his deep, dark eyes. There was a terrifying intensity in them that seemed to dispel a strange, smoldering anger. As they stared at each other, her breathing tightened. She tried to pull away, but he held firm. "If you didn't want me to divorce your mother, you could have just said so. Don't gamble with your future."

Jiang Mugui reacted violently, pushing him away. "Don't touch me!"

Mu Anyan frowned at her. The girl seemed unstable; he didn't know what had triggered her, but just as quickly as she had flared up, she returned to her cold, detached state. She lifted her eyes to look at him. "And don't worry about me."

With that, she fished a cigarette from her pocket, flicked her lighter, and lit it.

Mu Anyan suddenly realized that this was the real Jiang Mugui. She was the same girl who could be seen huddled up with a man on the street, whispering endearments. The girl he had known before—mostly well-behaved, occasionally biting and sarcastic—was not the real her at all.

He was surprised, yet not entirely shocked. He stared at her, not even bothering to snatch the cigarette from her hand, simply watching her smoke.

"When you're finished, you're coming home with me."

After a long silence, he spoke in a cold, final tone.

Jiang Mugui tapped the ash from her cigarette with practiced ease and smiled. "I don't have a home."