It was Hall, Cecil looked down from the second floor.
As soon as Hall entered, he apologized to Cecil the moment he saw him, then turned and glared fiercely at Isri.
Isri felt a chill run down his spine and instinctively took two steps back. Immediately afterward, Hall rushed to Isri's side and slapped Isri on the shoulder.
"I told you to come and change the dressing! Where are you?" Hall's brows were furrowed with anger.
Islam felt his entire shoulder was numb, and only after the pain subsided did he slowly open his mouth.
"I'm still busy."
Hall looked up and met Cecil's gaze; his eyes seemed to say, "Do as you please."
129
Having received permission, Hall pulled Isri away from Cesil's sight.
Hall's arrival eased the tense atmosphere somewhat. Isri sat in the room, letting Hall violently unwrap the bandages from his body.
Only when Hall's expression calmed down slightly did Isri begin to speak.
"When did the young master wake up?"
Hall continued working, opening his mouth to reply, "The day after you disappeared."
After saying that, Hall added a sarcastic remark: "Isn't it a coincidence that the young master woke up right after you disappeared?"
Isri paused for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at Hall, seemingly trying to understand the meaning of Hall's words.
“So… young master is…” Isri stopped himself from saying the words that were stuck in his throat, but more than that, he dared not think about what he had guessed.
Hall chuckled softly as he looked at Isriel. "What are you thinking? Has the young master been pretending all along?"
Isri's eyes flickered again, followed by Hall's mocking laughter.
"I've never seen you so stupid before. If the young master was faking it, wouldn't he have starved to death in that long?"
Isri seemed to suddenly realize something, and looked at Hall with a somewhat embarrassed expression.
The atmosphere between the two was somewhat awkward. A few birds chirped outside the window. Isri glanced at them, his gaze finally settling on Hall's hands.
"Does the young master still hate me?"
Islam's voice wasn't loud, but there was a hint of grievance in it as he lowered his head like a child waiting for an answer.
Hall tied the last knot in the bandage, turned to look out the window, reached out and pushed the window open, a gust of wind ruffling his hair.
"What do you think?" Hall asked, opening his mouth.
Isri's brow twitched, and his hands unconsciously clasped together: "I...don't know..."
"When you say you don't know, you already have the answer, don't you?" Hall said with a light laugh.
Isri stopped talking and turned his head to look at the two rings lying on the pillow.
Hall is right. His real question isn't whether Cecil hates him, but why Cecil doesn't hate him.
I've clearly done something so unforgivable...
“You started this whole thing, and it’s up to you to decide how to resolve it.” Hall turned around and said in a low voice, “But at least you need to know that you can’t go back to the way things were before.”
It was that phrase again. Isri shifted slightly. Going back to the past wasn't what he wanted, but right now, wasn't returning to the past the most important thing so he could start anew?
"What you've done is irreversible. The best option now is to address the root cause, understand?" Hall was like a priest standing on a church, instructing his followers.
Seeing that Isri stopped speaking, Hall opened his mouth again; "Don't get the wound wet, I'm leaving."
Once the room was quiet again, the birdsong outside became even more noticeable. Isri pressed the ring back under the pillow, got out of bed, and got dressed.
"bite……"
In the already quiet house, even the slightest sound was clearly audible. Isri paused for a moment, his hand that was buttoning his clothes, and his movements unconsciously slowed down.
It was the sound of a piano coming from upstairs. It wasn't loud, but it was very clear. Ishri couldn't remember when he had heard it before. Although he had been cleaning upstairs, he had never seen Ceshir go up there.
The notes were played very slowly, each step like an attempt to take the next step, and then the correct choice was made. Only when many notes were connected together could one hear the sound.
"Liebesleid" is a relatively old piece of music, and I had only heard it a few times. Ishri buttoned up his collar, pushed open the door, and walked toward the direction from which the sound came.
This piece was already melancholic, but the person playing it now seems to have amplified the sadness, minimizing the original hope for happiness and joy.
Unconsciously, Isri had already walked to the door of that room. The sound of the piano was right next to him. He did not intend to push the door open, but stood quietly by the door listening.
This room belonged to Cecil's mother, and it seems that the house has lost its third floor since that incident.
Isri’s fingertips were so cold they were almost numb. Everything was changing, just like Cesil’s words, “Time will destroy all that is unpleasant.”
The music played very quickly, and before he had stood at the door for more than a few minutes, the sound inside had stopped. Islam put his hand on the doorknob and pushed the door open a crack.
The windows inside were open, and as soon as the door opened, the wind lifted both of their hair, and the curtains that had been quietly placed to the side were also blown up.
Hearing the door open, Cecil stirred and turned around to look: "Hall's gone?"
Ceshir's voice was very soft, and he easily led people into it. Isri took a few steps forward, less than a meter away from Ceshir.
"Just left."
Cecil responded, turned his head back to look out the window, and after half a second, opened his mouth again: "It seems I misunderstood you."
Isri was taken aback by Sehir's words, took two steps to Sehir's side, and looked down in the direction of his gaze.
The house is positioned so that it faces the garden behind it, and from there, you can see the pavilion standing in the middle.
In that cramped space, the bird's nest was clearly visible from the outside, and the birds inside had grown up enough to go out and forage for food on their own.
It was only then that Isri realized about the birds; if Cesil hadn't mentioned them earlier, he probably would have forgotten about them in the garden.
“So why didn’t you explain it clearly back then?” Sehir turned to look at Isri.
Isri hesitated, only daring to speak after a gust of wind: "At that time, your expression showed that you didn't believe me."
“Was I wrong?” Sehir leaned against the windowsill, looking at Isri.
"No!" Islam's voice rose a little, then he quickly lowered his head: "No, it's my fault."
Sehir looked at Isri, who had lowered his head, and he had never thought that teasing Isri could be so funny.
"And what about that child?"
Upon hearing Sehir mention the word "children," Isri's expression immediately tensed up, and he quickly raised his head with a determined look in his eyes.
“That boy was really just an accident,” Isri explained, his hands trembling slightly.
Without evidence, would Sesil believe it?
Cecil didn't speak; instead, he looked Isri up and down and asked, "What are you so nervous about?"
When he noticed, Isri's neck turned slightly red and his earlobes felt hot: "I'm telling the truth."
Chapter 130
Sesil chuckled softly, pursing his lips. "I haven't even said I don't trust you, so why are you so nervous?"
“I…I’m worried…” Isri’s voice weakened, “I’m worried that you don’t believe me.”
“No,” Cecil said, turning his head to gaze absently at the treetops outside. “I believe you.”
After a brief silence, Isri tentatively spoke again: "Aren't you afraid I'll lie to you?"
What good will lying to you do, besides getting my forgiveness?
Sehir had never thought that Isri had so many questions; this was the first time he had been questioned so thoroughly.
“Let’s go. It’s a bit strange to talk about this in my mother’s room.” Cecil reached out and closed the window, then walked to Isri’s side and said, “Let’s make cream stew today.”
Isri paused for a moment, staring at Sehir's retreating figure.
"yes."
-
The past days felt like being shackled; no one mentioned that incident anymore, and no one would talk about it. Time, indeed, washes away all the unpleasantness.
Everything returned to normal, and life resumed as usual. Because of the restored nutrition, Sesil had grown taller and his features were much more refined than before.
It was only then that the people in the Chamber of Commerce came into contact with the true master of Cretis.
Upon receiving the news, the entire Chamber of Commerce was shocked, and they looked at Isri and Sehir somewhat at a loss.
Once Sehir took over the work, he lost his previous leisure time and spent all his time in his study, even eating all his meals there.
There is no such thing as summer in the West Asian continent. As soon as spring is over, the weather turns cold. In the evening, Isri cooked hot milk and when he entered the room, he saw Ceshir lying on the table.
Instinctively, Isri softened his movements, put the milk aside, turned around and went out to bring in the blanket.
Just as they were about to cover Sesil's head, the person lying on the table stirred, raised his head, and lazily propped his chin up with his hand.
"What time is it?" Sesil asked groggily.
"Seven o'clock in the evening."
As Isri spoke, Sehir glanced at the documents on the table behind him, his brows furrowing involuntarily.
"Young Master, please rest first. There's no rush to deal with this," Isri said with some concern.
Sehir tilted his head, picked up the cup, took a sip of milk, and then lowered his head to rest it on his arm.
Cesil's hair had grown to just below her neck, and the long strands added a touch of sexiness to her face. For a moment, Isri was stunned and couldn't take his eyes off her.
"What are you looking at me for?" Sehir also noticed Isri's gaze and looked up at him.
Isri snapped out of his daze and quickly looked away: "Young Master's hair has grown long."
When the topic turned to hair, Cecil straightened up and leaned back in her chair, twirling the end of her hair with her fingers and saying softly, "Doesn't it look good?"
The question was posed to Isri, who paused for a moment before answering honestly, "It looks good."
Cesil curled his lips into a smile, stood up, turned around and sat on the table, his gaze level with Isri's. Those blue eyes were so captivating that just looking at them could draw you in.
“Isri.” Ceshir’s voice was very soft, like a feather gently brushing against your ear.
The more Sehir acted this way, the faster Isri's heart beat: "What are your orders?"
Isri cautiously opened his mouth to ask, his throat feeling dry and hot as he looked at Ceshir's slightly upturned eyes.
Do I like myself this way?