Chapter 6: A Sleazy Man_1

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Fearing more as the hometown is near.

Although Sea City is not Yves King's real hometown, he has lived here for a full six years since the beginning of middle school when he followed his mother. One could say, this is his second hometown, his home.

It has been five years, a full five years since he last came home. Yet, no sooner he steps into the staircase, his steadfast heart gave a firm "throb".

A sour feeling rushed to his nostrils and eyes. What will come from coming home? Is this even home anymore? Is this once the simple and happy home where he and his mother lived in dependency, even though life was hard?

Yves King, that's the name his mother gave him. She had told him more than once that her greatest wish in life was that her son would grow up safe and sound, to lead a simple and happy life. She did not expect him to be rich, nor to be widely known. Only through being ordinary, she believed, could he truly enjoy peace.

But he did not understand this. He only knew as a man, even if he couldn't make a name for himself, he wanted to make a splash. Only a life full of ups and downs, full of splendor makes this journey through life worth it. How can a man live a mundane life?

Now he understood his mother's wish, but it seemed to be somewhat late — late by a full five years.

Wishing to show filial piety when parents are gone — it is indeed one of life's most helpless regrets. He had been back for half a month now, but he had stayed at the hotel all along, not daring to stay at home. Although he buried his mother five years ago, he has been pretending to himself all these years that his mother is still alive and living well at home. He was afraid, afraid to open the door to find an empty house. Even though he knew it was inevitable.

Only after he went to visit his mother's grave on Tomb Sweeping Day yesterday did he truly let go of all his thoughts. He was prepared to live as his mother had always wished for him, to live a simple and ordinary life.

However, there was one thing he had to verify. That one thing was like a fishbone stuck in his throat, never comfortable until it was removed.

Dragging his suitcase, his steps were a bit heavy as if his ankles were tied with two hundred-pound weights. But he was extremely determined, step by step, as if nothing could stop him from going home. Even if the so-called home was only inhabited by him.

The property management was good, the stairwell also very clean. The somewhat narrow light sensor in the stairwell lit up with each of his steps as if lighting up his future and showing the direction of his life.

Almost unconsciously, his hand grasped the doorknob, making his heartbeat speed up. Although he knew that his mother had been dead for five years, he was always reluctant to accept the reality. He still harbored a one in ten thousand expectation. Hoping that everything in the past years was just a nightmare, and as soon as he opened this door, he would wake up from the dream and find it was just an episode of Alice in Wonderland. After high school graduation, he did not stubbornly join the army amidst the quarrel with his mother, but went to university along with her wishes, and now he had graduated for many years and had a steady, decent and safe job. And his mother no longer worried about money.

His somewhat rough hand began to tremble slightly. He took the key from his neck, which was a key strung together by a red string. The red string was washed clean, but there were many knots in it. Although the knots were very carefully undone, one could still see that the red string was quite old and had broken many times.

The key was an old-fashioned brass key, which had been made shiny and smooth due to long-term personal collection, friction, and sweat erosion.

This was the key that his mother had hung around his neck when she had painstakingly bought this collective apartment many years ago. She held his hand and told him that from now on, this was their home.

In a blink of an eye, over a decade had passed. But he could still remember clearly, that his mother, who was only 35 years old, had a few wrinkles and gray hair on her face because she worked too hard and refused to spend money on herself.

He remembered more clearly how his mother struggled to keep up with the home, how she saved every penny to buy this home. Even after purchasing the property, she continued to be thrifty, saying that there would be many expenses in the future, college education would cost so much, a wedding would cost so much.

But she was always generous when it came to his meals. Milk was always available all year round; there was always meat on the table each meal; every few days there would also be a stewed chicken. However, his mother never touched the chicken, saying that he should eat it all by himself to get nutrition.

At that time, he was rather naive and found his mother's nagging annoying, with one ear in, one ear out. But many things are only just cherished and treasured after being lost. In these years, Yves King's deepest wish was to hear his mother nagging at him again.

As he was inserting the key into the hole, his usually unshakably firm heart squeezed. The unease that he hadn't felt in so long suddenly erupted. He poked it twice, but he couldn't get it in.

Suddenly, his somewhat scattered gaze became stinging, and his pupils suddenly shrank. He saw that the old lock on the door had been replaced with a brand new anti-theft lock.

An indifferent aura slowly arose from him, and his face also started to darken a bit.

Teacher Zhao!

She was his mother's former colleague and also a neighbor who lived in the same building. After handling his mother's funeral, Yves King entrusted Zhao with the care of this house, which was filled with his mother's painstaking efforts and hopes. Therefore, every year, Yves would send Zhao a sum of money to take care of the house. Any extra would be considered her payment.

Teacher Zhao, I hope you wouldn't let me down. Yves had deep feelings towards this house and tried not to think about the worst possibilities. He hoped that if Zhao noticed the old lock wasn't working, she would replace it with a new one. This house, a product of his mother's hard work, was also his home. He didn't want Zhao to rent the house out for greed.

He did not go downstairs to find Teacher Zhao directly but looked around for a piece of iron wire and a wooden splint. After a few attempts, the so-called new anti-theft lock was opened. As the door opened, a spotless home came into view, almost identical to the way it was before he left.

However, a chill engulfed him. All the lights in the house were on. There were a few pieces of luggage near the sofa. On the coffee table lay a bag of French bread and a box of milk, a white Apple phone, and a small ladies' leather purse. Most notably, the light in the bathroom was on with the sound of running water coming from inside, and steam was drifting out from under the door.

If he were still his old hot-tempered self, he would have rushed in and thrown out the person inside along with their luggage. But now, he gently closed the door, going over the decorations attentively in the bedroom, kitchen, and balcony to see if anything was out of the ordinary.

The house had been empty for a long time, suggesting that this person had just arrived. He took another glance at the living room wall. The two portraits of his parents were missing, which made his anger soar.

Remembering his mother's constant admonition to him to curb his fiery temper, he suppressed his anger. This house to him was filled with countless memories and warmth. Especially when he was wandering outside, this place was like a sanctuary for his soul.

He did not want to show his undesireable side in this house, and he did not want his mother's soul in heaven to be disappointed in him.

He sat slowly on the sofa, like a statue, his eyes cold and calm. Fortunately, things haven't gotten completely terrible yet; there's still room for recovery. He glanced at the luggage and purse; it seemed that the person taking a bath was a woman.

However, no matter who she was, he didn't want her to stay here any longer. The limit of his tolerance was calmly waiting for her to finish her bath, then politely asking her to leave. He would consider it merely hosting a guest for a bath.

Who would know, after a whole ten minutes of waiting, the sound of water was still coming from the bathroom. If it wasn't for the woman seemingly enjoying her bath, humming a nice tune, Yves would suspect she had died inside.

He hadn't eaten breakfast before going to his job interview, and spent the entire day wandering aimlessly without eating anything. Now he spotted the bread and milk and decided to help himself, begrudging the woman inside for taking such a long bath, wasting water and energy. Helping himself to her bread and milk seemed like a fair exchange.

She should thank him for not dragging her out and tossing her onto the street.

The taste of the bread was not bad, and the milk was good too. Imported from New Zealand? Hmm, this woman was quite extravagant. As he gobbled down the entire bag of food, his stomach started to feel somewhat full. Yves began to plan on going out for a late-night snack after she left.

After the sound of running water stopped, he could hear her bustling about inside for a good quarter of an hour before the bathroom door to the living room creaked open.

Faye Owen was in good spirits. After taking a hot shower and applying her skincare products, she prepared herself to start a new life from today. Though it seemed a bit hard and tough, it was also another experience of life. She was Faye Owen, a confident, beautiful, and independent woman. Any difficulty was not a problem in her eyes.

She was habitually wrapped in a towel, which was like an evening gown, exposing her smooth, fair shoulders. As she hummed a tune and walked out of the bathroom towards the living room, she was aiming for her luggage since it was a little chilly in early April. If the men and women in her company who feared her as a queen were to find out about her domestic side, they would be shocked.

However, she had just bent over when she felt a sudden chilling feeling, as if she was being watched. She quickly lifted her head, only to find that there was an extra person, or to be precise, an extra man on the sofa.

If some adjectives had to be added to describe this man, then the word would be a "lecherous" man.

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