Before she could clear her mind, Cheng Yi had no desire to go home.
She hadn't lied; she really did check into the hotel across the street, but that night she came down with a fever.
Ye Minglang ran around anxiously, feeding her medicine, applying cold compresses, trying every method he could to bring her temperature down. But the fever refused to break. With no other options, He asks the hotel to call a car and take her to the hospital. Only after getting an IV drip did her temperature finally begin to fall.
After all the commotion, Cheng Yi fell into a deep sleep, aided by the medication.
In her hazy dreams, Cheng Yi felt a warm hand gently caress her face. She dreamt of her childhood, of her parents always by her bedside, lovingly tending to their frail, sickly daughter.
Once upon a time, she, too, had been a cherished child.
But the dead were gone, leaving only tears in their wake.
When she awoke again, she was still in the hospital room, hooked to an IV drip. Beside her sat Ye Minglang, exhaustion written all over his face.
Two days later, she returned home. Without the hospital meals, Ye Minglang was quickly thrown into disarray. Cheng Yi had always been the one to take care of their meals and routines. He could barely manage his own life, now taking care of her as well nearly drove him to despair.
That morning, he went grocery shopping early. By eleven, he was clattering around the kitchen, and after two hours of effort, he finally presented two dishes: cucumber-stirred beef and a bowl of rice porridge. He even plopped a whole orange into water, saying it would replenish her vitamin C. When he was about to toss an unpeeled egg straight into the frying pan, Cheng Yi stepped in, turned off the stove, and ordered takeout.
As Ye Minglang devoured his Lanzhou noodles, Cheng Yi quickly poured him a glass of water. He had always had a great appetite and was never picky about food. When he liked something, he ate with such urgency it was as if someone might snatch it away.
Watching him eat that way always filled Cheng Yi with an odd sense of satisfaction. Perhaps all cooks prefer diners with hearty appetites, she mused.
And then, Cheng Yi missed her mother. She must have had a hard time, always feeling guilty for her daughter's frailty, believing it was her fault for giving birth prematurely. She studied cookbooks and tried different recipes, hoping her daughter would eat more and grow stronger. Ironically, Cheng Yi developed a finicky palate, becoming a picky eater. Of course, she also inherited her mother's excellent culinary skills.
The summer light rain tapped gently on the leaves outside, washing away the day's lingering heat. On a night like this, she missed home, missed that warm home from her childhood. She regretted not eating more, not treasuring the love her parents had given her.
If they hadn't passed away so early... would they still be that happy little family?
At least, on nights like this, with Minglang by her side, she wasn't left alone to grieve over the past.
"Minglang, why don't you ask who he is?"
They had known each other for years, she knew he was worried about her, which is why he had taken care of her without rest.
"You'll tell me when you're ready."
he replied with a mischievous smile, gently leaning his head against her shoulder. The sound of rain filled the silence, and his gaze drifted into the distance.
"You never asked about my past either, did you?"
Some things go unsaid—not because they don't matter, but because the courage isn't there yet.
Some people stay silent—not because they don't want to share, but because one person suffering is enough.
Not asking, not telling—sometimes, that's love too.
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In stark contrast to the busy figures moving in and out of the office, Fang Zhiyuan sat alone in his empty workspace, his gaze vacant and features forlorn.
That morning, his mother had barged into his office without any prior notice, her forceful demeanor intimidating his secretary into silence. He was used to her domineering ways. Their mother-son bond had thinned over the years, so he barely glanced at her before returning to his work.
Two years ago, Yan Xuemei returned to Z City and opened a high-end boutique. With her sharp social skills and relentless drive, she had managed to make the business a success. But she was always dissatisfied with her son's distant attitude. Even when she made an effort to reach out, he would brush her off with work. Yesterday had been her birthday, and she had arranged dinner with him well in advance, only for him to be a no-show. He didn't even answer her calls, leaving her humiliated in front of her guests.
If he wouldn't come to her, then he couldn't stop her from showing up unannounced. She marched up to his desk and slammed her bag down.
"Why didn't you come?"
"I already told you I wouldn't."
"You couldn't even have dinner with me?"
"Is it ever just dinner with you?"
Her son's cold and detached response left Yan Xuemei without a retort. She could only sink into a chair, defeated and disheartened.
"Yes, Yali was there yesterday. I won't deny it. She helped smooth things over."
"Being honest from the start would have avoided unnecessary misunderstandings."
So it was her own fault now? This son of hers—he must've been sent by the heavens to punish her.
Yan Xuemei knew she hadn't been a good mother. She'd barely played a role in raising him. Now, she couldn't even speak with confidence in front of her own son. Her voice softened, almost pleading.
"Zhiyuan, yesterday was my big birthday. I turned sixty. You only get one of those in a lifetime."
"I already sent a text wishing you a happy birthday. If that's not enough, I can pay for another round of banquets."
Yan Xuemei had to admit, her son was an exceptional lawyer, but must he use courtroom tactics on his own mother? She knew about his years-long obsession, but with Cheng Yi gone without a trace. If Cheng Yi could be found, she wouldn't stand in the way of them starting over.
She had come to realize that only Cheng Yi could make her son happy.
From the moment she first laid eyes on Hu Yali at Z University, Yan Xumei had liked the girl—coming from a good family and excelling in every way. But it was a shame her son showed no interest. Even after he and Yi broke up, Hu Yali followed him all the way to America, and she did everything she could to bring them together. For a brief moment, she thought it might actually work—until her son ruthlessly pushed the girl away again and returned to China.
Six months ago, she ran into Hu Yali at her store by chance. A bit of probing revealed the girl still hadn't let go. That gave her an idea: perhaps if she created a few more chances for them to meet, her son could finally let go of the past and move on.
She couldn't just stand by as her son waited year after year.
"Zhiyuan, I've never stopped you from seeing Xiaoyi," she said gently.
"But it's been years, she might be married by now."
"I only want you to be happy. I'm your mother, after all."
Fang Zhiyuan suddenly looked up, his gaze sharp with disdain as he stared at his mother, his face so cold it silenced her.
"Mother? You really do have a short memory. Even if Yi couldn't be your daughter-in-law, still called you 'Mother,' didn't she?"