My Stepbrother Is a Little Pitiful (ChatGPT Translated)

☆ 109. Chapter 108. Reunion Reunion

Chapter 108. Reunion Reunion

It's her, it must be her who has returned.

He had looked at the handwriting on the account book she left behind countless times, memorizing every stroke and detail. Cheng Qingzhi stumbled and groped in the darkness, feeling as if the cold wind would never end.

He rushed to the locked door, and the heavy chains rattled as they were struck. The old gatekeeper, with sleepy eyes, held his granddaughter and spoke impatiently, "Who is it? Who wants to go to the front yard in the middle of the night? Don't bother me."

Smack- A slap landed hard on his face, leaving the old gatekeeper dazed.

"You dog slave, open the door!" Cheng Qingzhi grabbed his collar, his narrow phoenix eyes sharp like a poisoned knife.

He was both anxious and resentful, his gaze as cold as an ice cellar. Why was he living in such misery while others enjoyed family happiness? His own unhappiness felt like a knife piercing his eyes and heart. Everyone should live in endless pain just like him.

"Yes, yes, yes," the old gatekeeper immediately bowed down and unlocked the door for him.

Cheng Qingzhi barged into the front yard and pushed open one of the servants' rooms.

The intrusion of a stranger startled the women inside, and upon recognizing Cheng Qingzhi, they immediately knelt down in fear.

"It's not her," Cheng Qingzhi murmured, his eyes bloodshot at the corners.

Without any attachment, he turned and walked away.

The next room, still not her.

The room after that, still not her.

The calmness of the late night was disrupted by Cheng Qingzhi's frantic search. Lights were turned on one after another, watching Cheng Qingzhi go mad, barging into each servant's room as if searching for something precious. With each wrong room, his expression grew more deranged.

The servants dared not approach to inquire. Cheng Qingzhi's cold-heartedness and cruel methods were well-known. No one wanted to provoke him, so they watched him go insane.

Cheng Songer slept soundly, but was suddenly awakened by the noise outside.

She sat up from the bed, not yet having the chance to put on her clothes and shoes, when she saw the door being pushed open.

Her room was not lit, and she could only see a figure standing in front of her door, his silhouette enveloped by the candlelight, unable to make out his face, only revealing the veins on the back of his hand.

"Qingzhi. . ." she softly called out.

The rigid figure stood like a taut string stretched to its limit. With her gentle call, the string instantly snapped, trembling with fragility.

She reached out her hand to him in the darkness: "Come."

Cheng Qingzhi clenched his fists tightly, his palms scratched by his nails, his face pale like a ghost.

This scene had appeared countless times in his dreams. She would sit quietly by the bedside, extending her hand tenderly towards him. Every time he approached with hope, it turned out to be empty. When he opened his eyes, he would still be lying on the cold bed, with a wet pillow.

His pale lips stammered, every muscle in his body tearing apart to the extreme. It was his physiological desire for her and an incredulous suppression, afraid that this was just another dream.

But. . .

He struggled to move closer to her, she was calling him.

Every time, he would bump his head and bleed, disregarding everything for a faint hope. If possible, he really wished to die in this dream, the closest position to her.