The drive stretched long and wordless, a silent pilgrimage through the fading heart of the city.
Felix watched the urban landscape dissolve, its frantic rhythm softening as they crossed into the quiet outskirts where the road began to curve through gentle hills and proud, dark cypress trees.
The world outside his window became a watercolor blur—a haze of gold sunlight and deepening distance.
Jianyu did not ask their destination.
He already knew.
When the ornate, wrought-iron gates came into view, etched against the sky, he only glanced once at Felix's profile—taking in the stark clarity there—then looked away, offering the privacy of his silence.
The car rolled to a stop at the edge of the small, secluded cemetery.
A soft wind moved through the ancient oaks, carrying the clean, damp scents of recent rain and rich, turned earth.
Felix stepped out first.
The crunch of gravel beneath his shoes was unnaturally loud in the pervasive hush.
