Chapter 186 Day 18 of Transmigrating into a True and False Young Master Novel

Chapter 186: The Eighteenth Day of Transmigrating into a Fake Heir Story

After the plane landed, the three of them immediately headed to the bus station and caught a long-distance bus.

The bumpy, cramped seats, the air mingled with all kinds of odors, and the scenery outside the window gradually transitioning from a bustling city to fields and villages filled the next two hours of the journey.

When the bus finally pulled over by a faded, broken signpost, it was already near dusk.

The setting sun painted the sky a warm orange-red, but it also cast long shadows over this somewhat barren land.

An Yi, using the original owner's memories, first took the two of them to a small grocery store to buy incense, candles, and ghost money.

Then he led them along a somewhat worn concrete path toward the village.

On both sides of the road were houses of varying ages, occasionally punctuated by the sound of barking dogs mixed with the smell of cooking smoke.

Finally, they stopped at a relatively remote spot at the far end of the village.

In front of them was a low, dilapidated tile-roofed house. The walls were made of red brick, but years of wind and rain had left the brick surface mottled and faded.

Because no one had lived there for a long time, it looked somewhat dirty and messy.

Song Xinghai looked at the old, dirty house in front of him, and his face went pale. An involuntary shiver ran through his body.

He knew his biological parents had a poor family background and had passed away young, but he had grown up in the privileged environment of the Song family, and his imagination could never have conjured such a specific and cruel picture of poverty.

This... was the source of his bloodline?

Yan Hui frowned slightly, his gaze carefully sweeping over the dilapidated tile-roofed house and its surroundings.

He tried to connect this desolate scene before him with the aloof, delicate, almost otherworldly An Yi beside him.

Every brick and tile here bore traces of An Yi's past life, which stirred an indescribable ache in his heart and an even stronger impulse to pull An Yi into a tight embrace.

An Yi's face showed no emotion. He pulled out a slightly worn set of keys from his backpack—these were the ones the original owner had taken when leaving, perhaps secretly holding onto a faint hope.

He found the right key, inserted it into the lock of the wooden door full of cracks, and turned it with some effort.

"Creak—"

With a grating sound that set one's teeth on edge, the door swung open.

A wave of air mixed with the smells of mold, dust, and faint decay rushed toward them.

In the dim light, they could see the simple furniture inside covered in thick dust, cobwebs tangled carelessly in the corners, and a pitted concrete floor.

It was clear that the cement floor hadn't been leveled properly when it was first laid.

Song Xinghai looked at the dark, dilapidated scene inside the door and felt a chill race from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head. Cold sweat drenched his back instantly.

His feet seemed rooted to the ground, his throat tight, and he couldn't even bring himself to step inside.

This place... was terrifying.

Just then, an old lady with graying hair and wearing a simple cotton blouse came out of a nearby three-story building that was still in decent shape.

She squinted her somewhat cloudy, aging eyes and curiously examined the three young people standing in front of the broken tile-roofed house—their demeanor starkly at odds with the surroundings.

Her gaze lingered on An Yi's face for a long time, as if she were trying to recall something.

After hesitating for a while, the old lady tentatively asked in a strong local accent, "Is... is that Xiao Yi? The An family's Xiao Yi?"

An Yi's memory immediately recalled the old lady's identity—she was Grandma Wan, who lived next door, and had been quite kind to the original owner's family.

He turned around, a gentle smile forming on his face, and stepped forward a few paces: "Yes, Grandma Wan, it's me. How have you been lately?"

Hearing An Yi's affirmative reply, Grandma Wan's face lit up with a broad smile, her wrinkles softening: "Good, good! Fit as a fiddle!"

She looked at An Yi with warm, loving eyes: "I heard someone say you went off to college, really made something of yourself! Why are you back now? Is school on vacation?"

"I came back to visit my parents' graves," An Yi replied calmly.

"Oh my, what a good child, such a devoted child! Your parents are watching from heaven; they must be very happy!" Grandma Wan praised repeatedly, then her gaze finally shifted to the two young men behind An Yi who had a strong presence.

One was tall and sturdy, with deep-set eyes, and even with the injury on his face, it couldn't hide his striking good looks and faint wildness. He stood very close to An Yi, his eyes barely leaving him.

The other had a clean, fair appearance, but at the moment, his face was pale, his eyes darting nervously, with a timid air. He was also standing close to An Yi on the other side.

Grandma Wan started mulling things over in her mind: Someone who could come back with Xiao Yi to pay respects to his parents must be really close!

Although the country had passed a law on same-sex marriage, and she, as an old woman, had heard her children and grandchildren talk about it, wasn't it still monogamy?

Looking at the three people in front of her, she began to wonder: Did the city folks' "one husband, one wife" mean one husband and one wife?

Was she, old woman, too old to keep up with the times?

The old landlords used to take concubines too!

With that thought, Grandma Wan thought she understood. A knowing smile spread across her face as she looked at An Yi and asked in a loud voice: "Xiao Yi, are these two your husband and wife? Did you bring them back to see your parents?"

These words stunned all three present.

An Yi: "..."

Yan Hui: "..."

An Yi even suspected he had misheard. His mind went blank for a moment, and he let out a confused sound without thinking: "...Ah?"

Coming back to his senses, he looked at Grandma Wan's sincerely puzzled yet logically consistent expression, and found himself both amused and exasperated.

He shook his head with a laugh and explained: "Grandma Wan, you've misunderstood. They're both just friends, just accompanying me back here. Besides, bigamy is illegal."

He didn't introduce Song Xinghai's identity.

After the initial shock, Yan Hui grinned inwardly!

Husband!

Grandma Wan had called him An Yi's "husband"!

If it weren't for the inappropriate setting, he would have loved to give this sharp-eyed old lady a thumbs-up!

Indeed, the older the ginger, the spicier it is!

Of course, it would have been perfect if that annoying Song Xinghai weren't there next to him!

Song Xinghai was a bit slower to grasp Grandma Wan's meaning, but as soon as he realized he had been mistaken for An Yi's "wife," his face flushed crimson with embarrassment and mortification, and he couldn't help stealing a glance at An Yi.

After bidding farewell to Grandma Wan, who was still muttering about how "city folks' relationships are so complicated," the three stepped into the dusty, cobweb-covered, dilapidated tile-roofed house.

Comment section:

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

“That’s incredible — monogamy!”

"This old lady must be joking, who’d think that? (crying laughing)"

"Jokes have their limits — Louis XVI."

"The person above is really making a joke from hell."

"What about that old monk earlier? Is he going to take Song Xinghai for himself too?"

"No, no, no! No way! Song Xinghai is shorter than An Yi and more submissive. No switching!! Absolutely not!"

"I'm so done!"

"..."

An Yi: ...