The afternoon sun fell like silk through the tall windows of the mansion, lighting the dust motes in soft gold.
Hong Yi stood by the Xiamen room entrance,
"Mr. Hong," the maid said quietly, please come , her tone hesitant. "Would you… like some tea while you wait? Madam stepped out for a moment
Hong yi sure...
As the maid disappeared into the kitchen, a small shadow appeared at the end of the corridor. Barefoot, holding a worn stuffed rabbit, a little boy peeked out from behind the doorframe.
His eyes — dark, gentle, and impossibly familiar — widened when he saw the stranger.
Hong Yi blinked, startled. "Oh… hello there."
The boy froze, clutching the rabbit closer. He looked no older than five, dressed in a tiny blue shirt.
"Don't be scared," Hong Yi said gently, kneeling down. "What's your name?"
The boy hesitated before whispering, "Haoyu."
Haoyu…
The name wrapped softly around Hong Yi's heart. "That's a lovely name," he murmured, smiling.
Haoyu tilted his head, still wary but curious. "Are you Mama friend?"
oh! Mama The word caught Hong Yi off guard.
He hesitated — "You mean Xiamen?"
The boy nodded. Mama says I shouldn't talk to people. But you look nice."
That made Hong Yi laugh quietly. "Then I'm honored."
The maid returned with a tray, startled to see them together. "Young Master Haoyu! You shouldn't—"
"It's fine," Hong Yi said softly, waving her off. "We're just talking." did you forget about me ..
Mee at before...
Haoyu, no i know you. You brought mama here ..
Haoyu's eyes brightened. "Do you want to play with me?"
Hong Yi blinked — then smiled, warmth softening his expression. "Play? It's been a long time since someone asked me that."
He followed Haoyu to the rug by the piano, where small toy blocks lay scattered. The boy's laughter filled the air as they built crooked towers, knocking them down and starting again. Hong Yi found himself laughing too — gently, freely, as if something in his chest had unknotted.
But as he looked at the boy — the curve of his smile, the faint dimple, the glint in his eyes — something inside him stirred. A strange familiarity, quiet but unshakable.
Why does he look… so much like me?
Just then, the door opened.
"Haoyu?"
Xiamen's voice froze them both. eyes flickering from Hong Yi to the boy — and back again.
"Mama!" Haoyu cried, running to him. "Look! Mr. Hong built towers with me!"
Xiamen smiled faintly, one hand resting on Haoyu's head. But when her eyes lifted to meet Hong Yi's, there was something else there — fear, sharp and trembling.
Hong Yi rose slowly. "You didn't tell me you had such a cute child," he said quietly
Xiamen's lips parted — oh thanks. Her hand tightened around Haoyu's shoulder.
Hong Yi studied him, a faint ache curling in his chest."You must love him very much."
"I do," Xiamen whispered — her voice breaking just a little. "More than my own life."
Hong Yi smiled faintly, unaware of the truth that pulsed beneath those words — the truth that Haoyu, the child who looked like him, was him.
As he left that afternoon, Xiamen stood by the window, watching them go — Haoyu waving from the stairs, Hong Yi glancing back once, unaware of what he'd left behind.
When the door closed, Xiamen's smile faded. she knelt beside her son, brushing a hand over his hair.
Haoyu looked up at him. "Mama ! why didn't you tell me he is your friend?"
Xiamen's eyes filled with quiet pain. He touched the boy's cheek gently.
"Because," she whispered, "some truths destroy before they heal."