MPH - 2

April 25th was the day of departure.

I felt neither nervous nor joyful, only a sense of dramatic unreality, as if everything were part of a dream.

Due to an EU ministerial meeting, I couldn’t buy a direct flight ticket. After a dozen hours of long-haul flight and a layover at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, I was already somewhat disoriented. Having slept too much on the plane, I couldn’t fall asleep anymore, so I pulled out my vocabulary book from my bag, hoping it would lull me to sleep.

“Jiang Yiyin,” my little aunt asked with a sour face, “Do you want to eat something?”

I shook my head.

Aunt Jiang Jinyu glared at me and went off to browse magazines in the waiting hall shop.

I secretly stuck out my tongue. Because of my stubbornness, my little aunt had refused to talk to me for almost a week. Now she was willing to put aside her work and accompany me to Europe, and I was so grateful that I wanted to burst into tears.

The elders of both families had arrived in the Netherlands a week ago. Since Professor Tian, who taught our public interior design class, was going abroad next month, we had to submit the first semester’s design drawings earlier, so I postponed my departure time.

Around me were the wedding assistants, makeup artists, drivers, chefs, personal photographers—a grand entourage of dozens of people, almost occupying half of the waiting hall. Some were pacing near the entrance, seemingly waiting for someone.

Burying myself in memorizing words, I soon felt drowsy.

I tightened the scarf around my neck, rested my head against a pile of luggage beside me, and closed my eyes.

Already feeling sleepy, I heard some commotion nearby. I opened my eyes and saw a tall figure walking straight towards me through the blur. Then, a dry and cool hand reached out, accurately grasping mine, slightly pulling me up from the huge pile of luggage.

Lao Jiazhuo’s low and hoarse voice carried a hint of fatigue: “Yingying.”

I swayed as I stood up, my mind clearing a bit. Only then did I see several formally dressed men standing behind him, each holding a black briefcase.

Lao Jiazhuo, dressed in a suit, looked even paler against his black shirt but appeared well. He nodded slightly at me.

I didn’t know if we made a matching pair, but I caught glimpses of surprise in the eyes of the elites behind me that they couldn’t conceal.

Lao Jiazhuo paid no heed to it. Holding my hand to steady me, he let go without a trace. His steady voice bore no emotion: “I will go with you.”

The breeze by the Nieuwe Maas River still carried a bit of chill, but I had no time to care about anything else; the scenery before me was breathtakingly beautiful.

The red-roofed white-walled houses were exquisite and cute. Windmills slowly swayed in the endless flower fields, and the misty air was filled with vibrant transparent colors, like a beautiful watercolor painting by Renoir.

Late April, my birthday season.

I finally married Lao Jiazhuo as I wished.

Of course, I didn’t wear Vera Wang. Not to mention the exorbitant cost of the dress, a wedding gown needed to be booked half a year in advance, and there were already countless socialites and ladies waiting in line. A bride like me with ulterior motives wouldn’t become a princess even if I wore it.

Something Old was a pair of delicate diamond earrings my mother had worn for many years, which she sent along with a dress designed by an independent Italian designer. The white chiffon dress had simple and smooth lines, with only a neat and elegant brocade pleat at the chest, very beautiful.

I still loved it immensely.

Every woman longs to see herself in a wedding dress.

I looked at the woman in the dressing mirror—her young skin lightly powdered, her cheeks glowing with radiance, looking as charming as a doll.

In my heart, I whispered softly: Jiang Yiyin, this is not you. Stay clear-headed, and you can retreat safely.

On the green grass under the blue sky and white clouds, white roses covered the entire wedding venue. At the moment the pastor announced the ceremony complete, Lao Jiazhuo bent down, his slightly cool lips gently kissing my cheek.

I saw a faint tear in my father’s eyes.

My mother had been complaining about how rushed the wedding was and that there wasn’t enough time to prepare properly. Who knew she would suddenly fall ill the day before the wedding and miss it.

Grandpa and grandma, along with the elders of the Lao family, sat in the main seats. Everyone was smiling happily, truly a scene of harmony and joy.

At the banquet, a beautiful woman walked towards us, wearing a pink dress, with a graceful figure and radiant charm.

The woman smiled warmly and hugged the man beside me affectionately: “Jiazhuo, I am very happy.”

I turned my face and saw Lao Jiazhuo’s expression change slightly.

Before I could think deeply about his change in expression, the woman turned to hug me: “Yingying, welcome to our family. I am Qi Xuan.”

Oh, so she was my sister-in-law. I had long heard that the wife of the eldest grandson of the Lao family was a beautiful lady. Seeing her today, she indeed lived up to her reputation.

I wonder where Jiajun was today.

Qi Xuan smiled again: “Jiajun is still in the United States. He asked me to send his regards to you. He will have a good reunion with you when he returns home.”

Lao Jiazhuo just smiled and nodded: “Mm.”

I just smiled as I watched them exchange pleasantries. Qi Xuan enthusiastically praised the wedding as warm and beautiful, then talked about her vacation in the United States, saying that Jiajun was looking forward to seeing Yingying. Her smile was infectious, truly a passionate and bright beauty. Lao Jiazhuo was obviously cold towards her topics but showed no impatience, quietly standing and listening, occasionally responding with a word or two.

What a strange pair of brother-in-law and sister-in-law.

With a smile on my face, I pondered what this situation meant. But the conversation didn’t last long. Soon other guests came over, and Lao Jiazhuo had to escort me with a smile to entertain them.

After the afternoon ceremony, the guests returned to the hotel for a short rest and changed clothes to attend the evening ball. The Lao family held a small banquet in an elegant banquet hall of the hotel. In the flickering candlelight, Lao Jiazhuo and I danced the first dance. After the applause, everyone raised their glasses, and the guests began to enjoy the music and wine to their hearts’ content.

The evening banquet ball was more casual. The elders also sat for a while and then left. I watched Lao Jiazhuo in the crowd, laughing and chatting freely, frequently raising his glass to drink. That handsome face carried a touch of unruly smile, and his slightly rolled-up cuffs were pleasing to the eye, making one gnash their teeth in envy.

It wasn’t until after one o’clock that I returned to the room. After a whole day, my legs were weak from standing. I took a bath in the suite, originally intending to wait for Lao Jiazhuo, but lying on the bed with my hair still damp, I fell asleep.

When I woke up the next day, it was already noon. The vast floor of the hotel was quiet. I washed up, changed clothes, and walked out of the room. A man immediately approached me: “Good afternoon, Miss Yingying.”

I massaged my neck, which was a bit sore from sleeping: “Uncle Guo, where has everyone gone?”

“The old master and mistress are having tea downstairs with the relatives. The younger generation is being led by Miss Qi Xuan to go shopping in the downtown area.”

“And Lao Jiazhuo?” I asked.

The senior butler of the Lao family bowed politely, his calm tone unchanged: “The second young master has taken the nine o’clock flight to Zurich this morning.”

Young people coming and going at the School of Communication brimmed with vitality, and boys carrying photography equipment often strode past.

It had only been a week since I left school, but I felt as if a day in heaven equaled a hundred years on earth.

Wei Huihui rushed down the stairs of the teaching building and viciously stepped on my brand-new white canvas shoes.

“Hey!” I jumped up and screamed at her: “You’re such a cruel woman!”

“The shoes I bought, what’s the harm in me stepping on them?” Huihui gritted her teeth: “Forcing me to deliver things for no reason, and then disappearing without a trace after taking the benefits—”

“Hey, I just took a few days off—”

Wei Huihui looked me up and down, even sniffing around my neck. Then she said suspiciously, “Jiang Yiyin, why do I feel like you’ve changed?”

I rolled my eyes: “I lost my virginity.”

Wei Huihui smirked proudly: “Impossible, I didn’t smell any trace of another person on you.”

I felt like strangling her. I grabbed her bag: “Let’s go eat.”

After dinner with Huihui, I took the subway from the university town in the east of the city back to Xinzhe District in the north. Exiting the subway station, the dazzling night view of the city’s most bustling new commercial district unfolded before my eyes. This area housed the top-tier commercial, dining, and entertainment venues. In the distance, neon lights flickered, and the headquarters of Lao Tong Bank stood tall at the heart of the bustling commercial district, glowing faintly in the night, already a landmark of Xinzhe District.

I crossed a busy intersection filled with cars and turned right onto Shijing Avenue into a residential area. The quiet tree-lined roads immediately separated the outside bustle from this peaceful neighborhood. The security guard recognized me and smiled.

After walking a short distance, private luxury cars kept passing by, casting streaks of light.

I entered the building, took out my card from my backpack to swipe open the elevator. The elevator was smooth and silent, and it stopped on the twelfth floor with a soft ding.

I opened the door, turned on the light, kicked off my shoes, threw my bag away, and collapsed on the sofa.

The crystal chandelier in the living room emitted a soft glow. I glanced upstairs—it was quiet.

It had been a week since I returned from the Netherlands, but the owner of the house still hadn’t shown up.

On the first day, the driver took me to Lan Yun Garden, led me to this apartment, and handed me a set of keys: “Miss Jiang, this is Mr. Lao’s home. I am Mr. Lao’s driver, my surname is Xu.”

I was puzzled: “Were you sent by Grandpa?”

The man in front of me had an ordinary and honest face, but his tone was polite yet humble: “No, I am only employed by Mr. Lao Jiazhuo.”

I nodded: “Brother Xu, thank you.”

“Your bedroom has been prepared. Except for his bedroom and study, you can use anything in the house freely.” Brother Xu handed me a business card without any emotion: “Mr. Lao said that Miss Jiang doesn’t need to be restrained. If you need a car, please call me.”

I took the card and politely smiled: “Okay.”

Brother Xu nodded at me and turned to walk towards the elevator.

“Brother Xu,” I asked, “When will Lao Jiazhuo return?”

He turned back, seemingly surprised by my question, but still answered: “Miss Jiang, I don’t know.”

I suddenly felt embarrassed and awkwardly said: “Okay, thank you.”

A newlywed wife having to ask the driver about her husband’s whereabouts—it was truly embarrassing. I decided not to bother about Mr. Lao anymore and enjoy life freely.

Lao Jiazhuo probably bought two units on this floor. The duplex-style house was very spacious. Downstairs was the living room and kitchen, plus a small room. Upstairs were the master bedroom and three guest rooms, along with a small meeting room. There was a small garden on the balcony. I moved a few chairs out there and leaned over the railing late at night, the strong wind blowing through my messy hair.

Even standing on the edge of a cliff, I would rather choose this moment of exhilaration and freedom.

Apart from Huihui, I didn’t have close friends at the university. My classmates were merely acquaintances. The relationships with my dorm mates were pretty good, but they all had boyfriends and were busy dressing up and going on dates after class.

So, they didn’t find it strange when I claimed I was going home to live.

If that could be called “home.”

On the weekend, I squatted at home watching Korean dramas.

Holding a big bag of snacks, I turned off the lights and immersed myself alone in the darkness. The wide living room was only lit by the dim light from the TV screen.

After all the love and hate entanglements of the story came to an end.

She dreamed that he came to say goodbye to her.

In the garden path downstairs, purple flowers bloomed among the grass. She was barefoot, with her sleeves rolled up, wearing a thin cotton white nightgown whose lace had been dampened by the mist. He wore that light-colored checkered shirt, carrying a brown luggage bag, with clean short hair, familiar eyes, and slightly swollen eyelids, but without words, only locking his brows deeply looking at her, sighing softly, then turning to leave.

She watched him leave helplessly, crying so hard that she couldn’t even make a sound.

Despite loving each other so much, so much, there was no way to utter a word of retention.

Her heart felt as if it was tightly squeezed and unable to breathe.

Damn, how sentimental.

I bit my teeth and reached out to grab a tissue box.

Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly saw a black shadow standing silently at the entrance of the living room under the dim TV light, like a ghost coldly watching everything.

My heart jumped coldly. I hurriedly jumped up to turn on the big light switch on the wall. In my panic, my leg hit the armrest of the sofa, losing balance, and I screamed, falling solidly onto the floor.

At that moment, the light switch made a soft click.

The entire hall instantly lit up. A tall man leaned against the wall, expressionlessly watching me.

I wished I could die on the spot.

Lao Jiazhuo’s low voice carried a hint of sarcasm: “Did you build yourself a stage?”

I quickly got up from the ground, not daring to rub my painfully throbbing knee, only managing a smile: “Yes, I’ve been serving the school drama club for three years. It’s a professional habit.”

He playfully looked at the tear streak on my cheek and actually smiled: “Not bad acting.”

I grumbled angrily: “Mr. Lao, after such a long time, do you have to be sarcastic?”

He walked into the living room, loosening his tie, and asked indifferently: “Are you used to living here?”

I noticed the wedding ring on his finger and was momentarily surprised.

The pair of rings we exchanged at the wedding were custom-made in France. Mine was embedded with a six-carat pure white stone, engraved with our initials inside. Lao Jiazhuo’s was a simple and elegant platinum band that looked great against his skin.

But my gaudy diamond ring was taken off and thrown into the jewelry box the day after the wedding.

“Jiang Yiyin?” He looked at me quizzically as I spaced out.

“Thanks to your blessing, it’s fine.” I watched him approach, his handsome face still clear, though there was a faint shadow under his eyelids.

“The house may not be big, but it should be enough for us to coexist peacefully.” He placed his keys on the coffee table: “Tell me if you need anything.”

“Everything is fine, thank you for accommodating me.”

Lao Jiazhuo lightly furrowed his brow, seemingly dissatisfied: “Yingying, no need to be like this. Now you are also the master of this house. We each take what we need; you don’t have to sound as if you’re enduring hardship.”

I realized my slip of tongue and sullenly replied: “That’s not what I meant.”

He nodded, as if addressing a roommate sharing the space: “Then I won’t disturb you. Continue watching.”

He picked up his luggage and went upstairs. 

I stared at his tall, slim figure until it disappeared around the corner of the staircase. Who could still be in the mood to watch TV? I turned it off and headed upstairs to my room. 

Lying in bed with a book, my bedroom was separated from Lao Jiazhuo’s by a corridor and a living room. I faintly heard sounds from the opposite side of the hallway: the scraping of chairs, the muffled tones of a phone call, and then the sound of running water from the shower… Thinking that there was another person in the house, I found myself unable to sleep. 

Tossing and turning for what felt like hours, I eventually drifted off without realizing it. 

After Lao Jiazhuo returned, my daily routine of attending classes and going about my life didn’t change much. 

He left for work every morning at around 8:30, didn’t come home for lunch, and usually returned late in the evening. 

Four days a week, I didn’t have early morning classes, so by the time I left for school, he was already gone. On Wednesdays, when I had an 8:10 class, if our schedules aligned, Lao Jiazhuo would offer me a ride. 

But after his car parked outside the school gates a few times, it drew too much attention. After I suggested that I’d rather go to school on my own, Lao Jiazhuo didn’t insist further. 

At night, I’d hear him come home. Sometimes the light in his study stayed on until late, but everything remained quiet. Occasionally, when he returned early and found me in the living room, he’d simply nod in greeting before heading upstairs. Sometimes, when I stayed up late doing homework, I’d see him standing alone on the balcony, gazing out at the glittering cityscape. The night breeze would ruffle his white shirt, and his lean silhouette carried a hint of lonely desolation. 

But no matter the moment, as soon as he turned around, he transformed back into that outwardly polite yet distant man whose face clearly signaled “do not approach.” 

We were strangers living under the same roof. 

He had indeed provided me with the utmost comfort in life—luxurious garden-style housing in a convenient location, fully equipped bedrooms and bathrooms, interiors designed to satisfy any young girl’s whims, and complete freedom over my schedule and lifestyle. 

When I occasionally visited home, Aunt Yun treated me with extra warmth. My grandparents were naturally delighted. By aligning ourselves with the powerful Lao family, the Jiang family seemed to have regained its luster. Things were certainly different now compared to the past. 

I had asked my little aunt about it. After securing a loan from Lao Tong Bank, the Jiang family business was operating smoothly, and its profits for the first half of the year had already surpassed those of the entire previous year. 

It seemed like a happy ending for everyone, and I had no further desires. 

I pulled the blanket higher and fell asleep peacefully. 

In the middle of the night, I woke up feeling thirsty. Groggily, I climbed out of bed and walked toward the living room across the hall. 

As I entered the living room, I heard low murmurs. Only then did I notice that the door to the study, which connected to the adjacent living room, was slightly ajar. The light inside was bright, and the occasional sound of keyboard tapping could be heard. 

Papers were scattered across the desk, and Lao Jiazhuo sat in front of the computer, completely absorbed. 

Perhaps my footsteps startled him. Lao Jiazhuo turned his head, his brow furrowing slightly before he pushed back his chair and stepped out. 

“Did I disturb you?” he asked in a low voice. 

“No, I’m just thirsty and wanted some water,” I replied. 

He gave me a quick once-over, his gaze dropping to the floor. Following his eyes, I realized I had wandered out barefoot in my daze, my naked feet touching the deep brown wooden floor, which felt slightly cold. 

I awkwardly wiggled my toes. 

Lao Jiazhuo walked over to the water dispenser and poured me a glass of water. “Drink some warm water. It’s better for you at night.” 

I took it and thanked him softly. 

Lao Jiazhuo nodded and turned back into the study. 

I held the glass of water and slowly made my way back to my room. For some reason, I felt strangely disoriented. 

The previous night’s restless sleep, combined with a day packed with classes, left me exhausted by the time I returned home in the afternoon. My head was already foggy as I dropped my bag and headed upstairs. Just as I turned onto the second-floor landing, my eyes widened in surprise. 

The entire second floor was carpeted with elegant brocade patterns. Walking barefoot on the plush, soft surface instantly relaxed me. 

I pushed open the door to my bedroom. In the small living area inside, there was a mini-fridge. I opened it to find it stocked with milk, various drinks, and even a compartment filled with ice cream. 

Staring at the colorful boxes of ice cream, I suddenly felt stunned. 

I sat down on the sofa, dazed. The clock struck midnight, and finally, the sound of the front door turning signaled Lao Jiazhuo’s arrival. His figure appeared in the entryway. 

Today he wore a casual suit, holding his jacket in one hand. Two buttons of his shirt were undone, and he pressed a hand to his forehead as he walked in. 

I immediately caught the faint scent of alcohol on him. Before I could say anything, Lao Jiazhuo noticed me waiting in the living room and seemed surprised. He cleared his throat softly. “Yingying, why aren’t you asleep yet?” 

Looking at his weary face, I said softly, “Thank you.” 

He stopped in his tracks. “What?” 

I glanced at him and replied, “For the fridge.” 

His expression paused for a moment, then he responded indifferently, “No need to thank me. I just don’t like being disturbed while working.” 

I tossed the pillow I was hugging aside and got up from the sofa. “Do you always work this late?” 

“Sometimes,” Lao Jiazhuo replied, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation. 

I smiled at him. “Even if work is enjoyable, doesn’t the second young master know that staying up late harms your health?” 

Surprisingly, Lao Jiazhuo ignored the sarcastic tone in my voice and simply lowered his head slightly. “Sometimes urgent documents from overseas branches can’t wait until morning.” 

“But aren’t you in charge of the Asian region? Isn’t Jiajun handling the overseas stuff along with others?” I asked, puzzled. 

Lao Jiazhuo replied softly, “We’re all family. It doesn’t matter who does it.” 

For some reason, hearing his calm, almost eerie tone made my heart soften a little. I said gently, “Well, don’t overwork yourself. Try to rest early.” 

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a bit disgusted with myself. I quickly dashed upstairs. 

Reaching the turn of the staircase, I glanced down and saw Lao Jiazhuo still standing beneath the elegant granite wall in the living room, lost in thought. 

---

On Friday afternoon, during the last class, even the teacher couldn’t resist the restless energy pulsing through the classroom and dismissed us early. 

Everyone cheered and rushed off to enjoy their weekend. 

I was packing up my textbooks and unplugging my laptop when the phone on the desk suddenly rang. 

Glancing at the number, I recognized it as the main line for the Lao family estate. I picked it up. 

“Miss Yingying,” came the gentle voice of a middle-aged man. 

“Uncle Guo, hello,” I replied politely, never daring to slight the Lao family’s head butler. 

“Finished with classes?” 

“Yes.” 

“No plans at school tonight?” 

“No.” 

“The old madam says you and the second young master should come home for dinner tonight.” 

“But I’m not sure if he has other plans for tonight…” I hesitated.

“Hello—” Suddenly, the old lady’s voice came through the phone: “You kids, it’s Lao Jiazhuo’s fault. It’s been over a month since your wedding, and you two haven’t come home to eat together even once.”

“Grandma—” I dragged out my words in a low voice, careful not to upset the venerable elder: “He’s been so busy with work. I’m not sure if he has time.”

The old lady spoke briskly: “How could he not have time on the weekend? It’s his own company. I’ll have Uncle Guo call his secretary. Yingying, you and Lao Jiazhuo will come home for dinner tonight.”

“I—” I hesitated, not daring to agree outright.

“Do you listen to your grandma or not?”

“Yes,” I cooed softly, trying to sound endearing. “I’ll go home first and wait for him, then we’ll head back together.”

I had visited the Lao family estate a few times, but always alone. Sometimes I’d drop by for a meal and even join the old lady for a few rounds of mahjong if time allowed. Other times, when Qi Xuan was home, we’d have afternoon tea together.

The Lao family mansion, located at the heart of Jinxi Garden, was a European-style villa—elegant in appearance, luxurious in decoration. The front yard featured a vast Western-style garden filled with lilacs. On summer nights, the air was fragrant with their sweet aroma.

Uncle Guo and a few servants kept the house impeccably organized. The chef’s culinary skills were on par with imperial standards, crafting both Chinese and Western dishes that rivaled gourmet delicacies.

I couldn’t figure out why Lao Jiazhuo had chosen to live alone outside the estate.

When I returned from school, I hit rush hour traffic, which delayed my arrival home by half an hour.

Walking into the foyer, I was surprised to see Lao Jiazhuo sitting in the living room.

I was a bit taken aback: “Didn’t you have work this afternoon?”

“Mm, I wasn’t at the office. I had something to attend to at the banking regulatory commission this afternoon.” Lao Jiazhuo sat on the sofa, his face pale, with faint traces of fatigue etched between his brows.

I sat down across from him: “Do you have anything planned for tonight? Grandma wants us to come home for dinner.”

He straightened slightly from his relaxed position on the sofa, though his tone remained indifferent: “You didn’t tell her I was too busy to make time?”

“I did, but—” I hesitated, “it’s just dinner. It won’t take long.”

“Too tired. I don’t feel like going back.”

“I’ve already promised,” I blurted out, closing my eyes and speaking louder than intended.

At my words, his expression visibly shifted, his face darkening instantly.

I fidgeted uneasily, shrinking back slightly.

He stared at me intently, then let out a soft sigh, slowly rising to his feet. He reverted to his usual impassive demeanor: “Wait a moment. I’ll go upstairs to take a shower.”

When we went downstairs together, I saw Brother Xu, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, waiting downstairs.

Brother Xu greeted him respectfully, then opened the car door. Lao Jiazhuo got in and gave me a curt instruction as I stood there dumbfounded: “Get in.”

I was puzzled: “Don’t you usually drive yourself?”

Lao Jiazhuo’s face was grim: “Get in.”

I quickly shut my mouth and scrambled into the car.

In the backseat, Lao Jiazhuo beside me was quiet. I stole a glance at him. Even seated in the car, he hadn’t relaxed; his back was straight, his hands folded neatly on his lap. The car moved smoothly, passing through the city and entering the lush, tree-lined villa district. The ornate iron gates of the Lao family estate were already visible in the distance.

As the car turned into the garden, Uncle Guo was waiting on the steps in front of the house: “Second Young Master, Miss Yingying.”

Lao Jiazhuo gave him a cold nod and walked directly through the front corridor into the house.

I smiled at Uncle Guo and hurried after him.

As soon as I stepped into the hall, I saw a man walking down the stairs, smiling as he approached us.

The man was about the same height as Lao Jiazhuo, but while Lao Jiazhuo was lean and tall, this man appeared more robust. He wore a brown shirt, and the glasses perched on his nose added a scholarly touch.

His tone was somewhat exaggerated: “Lao Er, finally decided to bring your lovely wife home, huh?”

A smile flickered across Lao Jiazhuo’s face, though his tone remained devoid of warmth: “Older Brother, it’s rare to see you in the country. What brings you back?”

The man laughed: “I couldn’t make it to your wedding, but this meal is a must.”

So this was Jiajun.

Jiajun turned to me and pulled me into a hearty hug: “Sister-in-law, you’re truly delicate and charming—”

He winked at Jiazhuo: “Is she your type? Can she satisfy you?”

Without missing a beat, Lao Jiazhuo pulled me behind him: “I’m fine. Not as heroic as you, Older Brother.”

I quietly pondered the situation. These two brothers exchanged veiled jabs, yet their banter seemed oddly intimate, as if their bond was strong enough to allow such unfiltered teasing.

The atmosphere was strange, but Jiajun broke the tension with a well-timed laugh, stepping back. At that moment, I noticed the old lady beaming as she walked toward us, waving at me: “Yingying, you’re back?”

“Grandma,” I quickly moved to sit beside her on the sofa.

The old lady poured tea as she spoke to me: “Yingying, while Lao Er is here, tell Grandma—how are the two of you getting along?”

I wasn’t sure if my feigned bashfulness was convincing enough, so I settled for a sweet smile: “Jiazhuo takes good care of me.”

The old lady glanced at me, then at Lao Jiazhuo, seemingly satisfied with the answer. She smiled: “School’s almost on break, isn’t it?”

“One more month.”

“Good. When the holidays start, come home more often.”

I sat beside the old lady, carefully picking out a stray tea leaf for her, engaging in light conversation.

The old lady urged me to eat some fruit and specifically asked Sister Guo to bring out several boxes of red mulberries. Those tiny, jewel-like red berries were sweet and juicy. Such a small box of wild berries, purchased from city’super, cost 60 Hong Kong dollars.

The wealthy really do live luxuriously.

I mused silently. Lao Jiazhuo himself seemed relatively modest. The house’s decor and furniture were elegant but within the range of high-end residential prices. He didn’t seem picky about food either. On the rare occasions he returned home without a business dinner, I’d bring him a bowl of ramen, and he’d devour it hungrily.

Sometimes, when I made him a cup of hot tea, he’d let out a contented sigh and thank me sincerely.

I often saw the faint exhaustion on his pale face when he returned from work, and it left me feeling wistful. A financial titan who seemed to bask in glory in public, yet was so busy he barely had time to eat a proper meal.

I glanced over. Lao Jiazhuo sat quietly on the sofa, not intending to join our conversation.

After a while, Uncle Guo emerged from the inner hall and stood beside the sofa: “The steamed eel is ready. Shall we begin dinner?”

The old lady glanced at the time, stood up, and said: “Go fetch Grandfather.”

“Yingying,” the old lady smiled, “next time, invite your grandma over to your place for dinner. Let’s all gather more often.”

I murmured an agreement and followed the old lady to the dining room.

Grandfather descended from upstairs, glanced at Lao Jiazhuo, and said indifferently: “Back?”

Lao Jiazhuo merely grunted in response.

I walked out of the dining room and quickly smiled: “Grandpa.”

The stern face of the old man softened slightly, and he nodded: “Go sit with your grandma.”

He glanced at the dining room and asked: “Where’s the eldest?”

Uncle Guo quickly responded: “He’s upstairs. I’ll go call him.”

Jiajun soon came downstairs, followed by Qi Xuan.

“Hey, Yingying, when did you get back?” Qi Xuan’s smile was radiant.

“Just a little while ago,” I replied with a smile. Seeing a beautiful woman always lifted my spirits.

“Why didn’t you come upstairs?” Qi Xuan, ever enthusiastic, added: “I just got back from Paris the day before yesterday and brought you a gift.”

“Let’s eat first,” the old man interjected.

Qi Xuan smiled at me and took her seat.

The old lady called me from the dining table: “Yingying, come sit here.”

“Okay,” I replied and walked over to her side.

Lao Jiazhuo followed me and pulled out a chair for me. The old man sat at the head of the table, facing Jiajun and Qi Xuan.

It was a rare family reunion.

Although the Lao family had moved south years ago and grown accustomed to Cantonese cuisine, traditional family rules were still strictly observed during meals. Formal dinners were always Chinese-style, with seating arrangements based on seniority and strict adherence to etiquette.

Fortunately, the Jiang family never neglected the education of the younger generation, so I could manage to hold my own.

On the other hand, Qi Xuan, who was used to Western-style freedom, had once secretly complained to me that dining with the elders was such a “trouble thing.”

True enough, Qi Xuan only drank a little soup at the table. The old lady looked at her with some displeasure but said nothing.

The old man ate slowly and deliberately from his position at the head of the table. Even in his sixties, he remained imposing, his sharp eyes scrutinizing everyone with an air of judgment.

Rumors had it that the Lao family’s patriarch had two sons—one who shunned worldly affairs and another who died young—and that the longevity of Lao Tong Bank was due to the old man’s enduring strength.

He was the supreme emperor of the entire Lao Group.

The Supreme Emperor spoke: “Eldest, are there any signs of stability in U.S. consumer credit?”

“The government has taken measures. According to data released by the Ministry of Commerce, consumer spending rose by 2.5% in the third quarter.”

“The overall environment is still unfavorable,” the old man shook his head slightly.

Jiajun replied: “The company has increased its foreign exchange reserves by $10 billion, which should be enough to control any potential deterioration in consumer loans.”

The old man acknowledged: “Good job.”

Jiajun smiled elegantly, visibly relieved.

“Have you visited your father recently?” the old man asked.

“Dad recently moved to New Jersey. The new house has a nice environment,” Jiajun replied with a smile.

Qi Xuan chimed in: “I’ve accompanied Jiajun a few times.”

The old man nodded, seemingly satisfied, and the topic was temporarily put to rest.

After sipping some soup, the old man wiped his hands with a napkin, then glanced at Lao Jiazhuo beside me and asked, his tone neither too heavy nor too light: “Second son, is it true that the New York investment bank transferred the Lianzhong Fund case to you?”

“Mm,” Jiazhuo replied with a single word.

“Why are you handling matters from the Americas region?”

“I saw that my older brother was too busy to—”

The old man placed his chopsticks down gently but firmly, his tone carrying an unspoken authority: “Your elder brother is your superior both inside and outside the family. Since when did you start overstepping your bounds and making decisions on his behalf?”

Lao Jiazhuo’s expression remained unchanged as he calmly replied: “Last week, several documents I sent overseas from Singapore and Hong Kong haven’t been returned to headquarters. The Lianzhong Fund has been frozen for nearly a week, and Chairman Wang was upset. I had to step in to calm the clients.”

The old man coldly responded: “Jiajun will arrange for the branch manager to handle it. Focus on your own responsibilities.”

This was already a veiled warning.

I looked at the man beside me, whose face had paled slightly, and felt a faint tremor in my heart.

“Old man,” Grandma suddenly interjected, “we’re having dinner at home. What’s all this about?”

The old man glanced at her, his expression softening slightly, though his tone remained stern: “If both brothers aren’t doing their jobs properly, don’t I have the right to discipline them?”

Grandma glared at him unhappily: “I don’t like what you’re saying. Lao Er is already married. Marriage and establishing a career go hand in hand. You can’t deny aging forever. In my opinion, it’s time you gave Lao Er more authority over the Asian region.”

I noticed Jiajun’s expression shift slightly.

Lao Jiazhuo remained impassive.

Qi Xuan suddenly took Jiajun’s hand, her demeanor intimate, her tone soft: “Enough talk about work during dinner.”

Jiajun’s expression immediately softened, and he looked up at Jiazhuo with a smile: “We’re all family, Lao Er. You’ve worked hard.”

Lao Jiazhuo raised his head and glanced at the woman across the table, his gaze dimming slightly.

Jiajun looked at Jiazhuo, then suddenly wrapped an arm around Qi Xuan’s waist, smiling sweetly at her—a sight that made others envious.

The old man nodded and said no more. The atmosphere at the table grew quiet and somber, broken only by the faint clinking of dishes.

After a while, the old man pushed back his chair and stood up: “I’m full. You youngsters take your time.”

Everyone else quickly stood up as well. I rose to accompany Grandma out of the dining room and glanced back at Lao Jiazhuo.

He sat upright, his head slightly bowed, barely touching the utensils beside him.

He had hardly eaten anything during the meal.

By the time dinner was over, it was already past eight o’clock. After sitting on the sofa for a while, Lao Jiazhuo stood up and said to the old man: “There’s a VIP wealth management meeting at the private bank tomorrow. I need to go back and prepare some materials.”

The old man was carefully brewing tea and didn’t look up, merely nodding.

He turned to me, his tone gentle and considerate: “Yingying, would you like to stay and play for a bit? I’ll come pick you up later.”

How could I, unworthy as I am, deserve such care from the second young master? I quickly stood up: “I’ll head back too. I need to study for an exam.”

Grandma watched us, smiling warmly: “Then go back together.”

Jiajun stood with his hands in his pockets, a faint smile on his lips, watching us with an amused expression.

Lao Jiazhuo took his coat from Uncle Guo, bid farewell to the elders, and lightly pulled my hand: “Let’s go.”

Qi Xuan walked out from the side hall: “Leaving so soon?”

Lao Jiazhuo simply nodded and turned away, not even glancing at his brother and sister-in-law standing together.

I smiled and said goodbye to Jiajun and Qi Xuan one by one.

Finally, we got into the car, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Brother Xu quickly started the car, driving out of the villa district and into the bustling city streets.

The atmosphere in the car was quiet and heavy. I stole a glance at the man beside me. Lao Jiazhuo had been silent since getting into the car.

I gazed out of the car window. The low-pressure atmosphere of midsummer felt oppressive, as if a storm was about to break. The air conditioning in the car chilled my skin.

I rested my hand on the car window, and several times, I noticed Brother Xu glancing uneasily at the rearview mirror.

Following his gaze, I looked at Lao Jiazhuo beside me.

He still sat upright, his expression as indifferent as ever. However—frowning, I scrutinized him closely. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his pale forehead, and his face appeared unusually pale under the dim light.

I opened my mouth, but the words of concern died on my lips as they met his frosty countenance.

The car came to a smooth stop at the building entrance. Brother Xu hurried over to open the door for me, but Lao Jiazhuo pushed it open himself.

Brother Xu quickly moved to assist him, watching as he stepped out of the car. Concerned, he asked: “Mr. Lao, are you alright?”

Lao Jiazhuo tightly pressed his lips together and shook his head.

I followed him into the elevator and upstairs. In the living room on the second floor, under the bright lights, Lao Jiazhuo’s face looked as white as paper. He gave me a slight nod, his brows furrowed, and then walked into the opposite room.

I went into my room, set down my bag, but still feeling uneasy, I stood by the door and looked at the slightly ajar door across the hall.

The room beyond was silent. After standing there for a moment, just as I was about to turn back, I suddenly heard some hurried footsteps. Then came the sound of the bathroom door being pushed open, followed by the rush of running water.

Mixed with these sounds were muffled coughs and retching.

My heart raced. Without thinking, I pushed the door open and went in.

The bathroom door was wide open. Lao Jiazhuo wore a white shirt, his lean figure fully visible. One hand braced against the sink, the other pressed against his stomach, he was violently vomiting, clearly in great discomfort. I supported his arm, and he raised a hand to cover his mouth, giving me a glance. His handsome brows were tightly knitted.

Though he tried hard to endure, he couldn’t control the violent vomiting. In an instant, he lowered his head again, dry heaving continuously.

I noticed his entire body trembling slightly. I asked: “Are you okay?”

Lao Jiazhuo shook his head.

I supported him, patting his back to help ease his breathing. After a while, the painful spasms that had wracked his body finally began to subside.

Lao Jiazhuo still kept his head down. He scooped water with his hands and splashed it on his face, washing away the cold sweat. He reached for a towel and dried his hands, though traces of pain lingered on his face, his tone was calm and unruffled: “I’m fine now, thank you.”

“Jiazhuo,” I followed him into the living room and persisted: “Do you want to see a doctor?”

Lao Jiazhuo looked at me, his face once again an impassive mask: “No need.”

I was truly worried: “Hey, why would you suddenly vomit so violently? Do you have a stomachache? If you had told me earlier, I could have told Grandma we wouldn’t come home for dinner…”

“Yingying,” his voice lacked strength, but each word was clear: “Live your life well. My affairs are none of your concern.”

I was instantly silenced.

“Mm,” I stammered: “I’ll go back to my room.”

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

In the middle of the night, I got up and stood by the glass window in the living room, drinking water. The night sky was low, and the distant neon lights flickered faintly.

Once again, I saw that figure on the terrace.

Lao Jiazhuo leaned over the railing, quietly gazing down at the sleepless city below, his gaze distant and unfocused.

I pushed open the door to the terrace greenhouse. Lao Jiazhuo turned to look at me. Perhaps the late hour had melted away his usual cold detachment, for in that moment, his demeanor was calm and serene, his eyes carrying a hint of warmth.

I handed him the cup in my hand: “Lemon honey water, warm. It will make you feel better.”

He took it and said softly: “Thank you.”

His voice was somewhat hoarse.

Not wanting to disturb him, I simply said: “I’m going back to sleep.”

From behind the living room curtains, I watched as he drank the water, stood for a moment, and then returned to his room.

---

The next day, it was the weekend. I stayed home, working on my design drawings.

As always, Lao Jiazhuo treated weekends like weekdays, spending the entire day in front of the computer.

By evening, I got up to search for food in the kitchen.

The bright, spotless kitchen was fully equipped, but it was all for show. Lao Jiazhuo never used it. Occasionally, I would cook some porridge.

Opening the fridge, I found eggs and tomatoes. My culinary skills were limited to making a pot of fragrant noodles.

I squatted in the living room, slurping noodles enthusiastically while watching prime-time TV.

At fifteen minutes to nine, Lao Jiazhuo returned from work.

I was wiping my mouth contentedly when I saw him: “Have you eaten?”

He nodded: “I ate outside.”

“Did you eat enough at the business dinner?” I asked.

His hand paused for a second as he loosened his tie, then he shook his head.

With a grand gesture, I waved: “There’s still noodles in the kitchen. They’re yours.”

Lao Jiazhuo smiled and turned into the kitchen.

I continued watching TV, glancing over to see him take a bowl and sit down at the dining table.

Today he wore a dark blue shirt, the rolled-up sleeves revealing his fair wrists. This elegant young master never ate anywhere but at the dining table.

After a while, he set down his chopsticks, reached for a napkin, and said to me: “Yingying, thank you. It was very good.”

I picked up the bowl from the coffee table in the living room and walked over to him.

He looked up at me, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Wash the dishes.” I placed the bowl I was holding in front of him and answered succinctly.

Lao Jiazhuo spent quite a while in the kitchen. When he came out, his hands were dripping wet.

He sat down next to me: “Not going out to play this weekend?”

“Tight schedule, need to finish first.”

“Shouldn’t your third-year teachers let you work on independent design projects by now?”

“Mm, my floor plans are okay, but my interior elevation and perspective drawings aren’t very good yet, and I don’t understand cost estimates very well.”

“That’s not a problem. You’ll learn after working with designers a few times. Have you contacted any internship units yet?”

“Not yet, maybe next semester.”

“If you need any help, let me know.”

“Mm,” I nodded, then suddenly noticed: “Your clothes are dirty here.”

Lao Jiazhuo looked down; there was a small oil stain on his shirt.

He didn’t seem to mind: “It’s fine.”

I burst out laughing: “If Grandma finds out I made you wash dishes, she’ll definitely order you to divorce me.”

Lao Jiazhuo paused, a flicker of unreadable emotion crossing his brow, then replied: “No, she wouldn’t.”

Seeing his suddenly inscrutable expression, I thought I might have misspoken and quickly pretended to focus on the TV.

Lao Jiazhuo walked over to the glass window in the living room and began making a phone call: “Hello, Su Jian.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing urgent.”

“No, it’s not about tomorrow’s investment case.”

“Mm, go buy me an appliance tomorrow.”

“No need to involve the administrative department for procurement.”

“No, my laptop is fine.”

“It’s like this,” he hesitated for a moment, gritted his teeth, and said: “I need a dishwasher.”

I was stifling laughter on the sofa, my stomach aching from holding it in.

---

In June, there was an art exchange conference between the innovation center in Italy’s Veneto region and the Hong Kong Academy of Arts.

My beloved mother returned to the country and stopped by to visit me.

“Yingying, no need to inform anyone. I’m just here to have dinner with you.”

Even though she repeatedly emphasized that she didn’t want to see any old acquaintances in this city, I was still delighted and kept checking the calendar.

Sitting in the living room, I thought about how to tell Lao Jiazhuo when he came home from work.

Recently, he seemed to have a bit more free time and usually returned before ten o’clock. He would sit in the living room, asking about my studies and life. Sometimes in the morning, if I cooked breakfast and he wasn’t in a hurry, he’d eat at home. When the fridge was empty, I had casually restocked it. The next day, Lao Jiazhuo thanked me and handed me an envelope.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Pocket money,” he replied naturally. “Previously, someone was hired to take care of things at home. I thought you might not be used to that, so I stopped hiring them. It’s a bit of a hassle for you.”

I smiled: “Very good, I love shopping.”

I opened the envelope—it was a Lao Tong Bank card.

With the money Lao Jiazhuo gave me, I bought household items and regularly went to the supermarket to purchase groceries. He liked a particular brand of milk, only drank purified water, and rarely consumed any other drinks. Occasionally, he mixed alcohol with ice. I bought fresh fruits from the market to make juice, which he would drink while working at home in the evenings. The salesgirl at the store smiled and told me, “Miss, if you spend over 800 yuan, we’ll give you a gift.” I looked around and chose a smirking rabbit figurine, bringing it home to place in the living room. After class, I passed by the flower market near the school and bought a bunch of lush camellias. Gradually, the house began to feel more lived-in.

I didn’t know if Lao Jiazhuo liked it, but at least he didn’t show any displeasure.

Our interactions, though not intimate, at least felt like those of friends or family with a hint of warmth.

I thought that at least we both felt more comfortable.

At nine o’clock, Lao Jiazhuo opened the door.

He placed his car keys on the coffee table and greeted me.

“Jiazhuo,” I bounced over to him: “My mom is coming back to see me.”

Lao Jiazhuo’s expression stiffened momentarily, then returned to its usual mild warmth: “Mm, it’s rare to see you so happy. Spend some quality time with your mom.”

“Mm, she hasn’t been back for a long time—”

Before I could say more, he had already started walking upstairs.

“Jiazhuo...”

“Yingying,” he didn’t stop, his tone devoid of emotion: “I’m tired. Let’s talk another time.”

I watched his figure disappear around the staircase corner, shrugged, and sat down.

I pouted. This man—the temperament of a noble young master was truly unpredictable.

Counting down the days until Thursday, my mother called: “Dear, I’ve finished my work here, but there are still some follow-ups. I’ll take the plane tomorrow and arrive at five in the afternoon.”

“Mm, Mom, should I come pick you up?”

“No need, a taxi will be convenient.”

“Yingying,” she hesitated for a moment, then asked: “Is Mr. Lao available? As your mother, perhaps I should meet my son-in-law.”

“Mm,” I thought about it and figured Lao Jiazhuo should understand her feelings, so I agreed: “I’ll ask him, Mom.”

She hadn’t attended our wedding. Since this was a rare visit back to the country, at least Lao Jiazhuo should meet her.

My mother doted on me without spoiling me. After she and Dad separated, I secretly kept her photos. I remembered seeing pictures of her pushing my stroller through art galleries, wearing an elegant qipao, looking stunning. When I was older, she secretly took me to fashion galas despite Grandma’s disapproval. She cultivated in me the demeanor of a champagne-sipping lady, standing out vibrantly in the traditional Jiang family.

After her divorce, I got along well with her subsequent boyfriends. She was a woman who had long drifted away from tradition.

Perhaps because of her sudden departure during my teenage years, she showed me the utmost tolerance and affection as the unfinished product she had raised.

Being with her, I thought, shouldn’t be too stressful for Jiazhuo.

These past two days, Lao Jiazhuo seemed busy, and I hadn’t seen him.

It was evening, so I decided to call him.

His number was one of the few he had called me on, which I saved. The phone rang for a long time, but no one answered.

A moment later, he called back. Perhaps he was in the office; his tone was somewhat distant and cold: “Yingying, what do you need?”

“Not done with work yet?” I had never called him during work hours before, so I was a bit nervous.

“Mm,” he covered the receiver and whispered something to someone nearby, then spoke to me: “Almost done. What is it?”

“Can you come home? I have something to ask you.” I asked cautiously.

“Alright, wait a moment.”

Blue Yun Garden, located in the prime area of the city, was only a ten-minute drive from the Lao Tong Building.

I didn’t wait long, but sitting on the sofa, the air conditioning couldn’t dispel my unease.

The man who walked in was tall, with his usual aloof demeanor.

I watched him enter, change his shoes, take off his tie, and sit beside me.

I felt a dryness in my throat and some nervousness: “Jiazhuo, do you have time tonight?”

He glanced up slightly: “Hmm?”

“My mom arrives tonight, and she wants to have dinner with us.”

His expression changed slightly, showing surprise, a hint of irritation, and a lot of unreadable frostiness.

“Yingying, I’m sorry,” he always kept his emotions perfectly concealed, speaking flatly: “I have a business engagement tonight and can’t join you for dinner.”

He didn’t even bother to hide his indifference; the perfunctory tone was so obvious.

“Can’t you cancel it?” I asked softly: “My mom doesn’t come back often.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Jiazhuo, are you really that busy?” I was still young and didn’t want to beat around the bush with him.

“Jiang Yiyin, the freedom I promised you doesn’t include having to entertain your family whenever they demand it.” He lost his usual composure, his tone sharp and biting.

“My mother just wants to see me. Can’t you spare some time for dinner?” I felt it was unfair.

He smirked faintly, the sarcasm flashing across his face for a moment: “Sorry, I’m too busy with work to moonlight as a TVB actor.”

I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the words to counter him. I was left speechless.

Calmly, he stood up, straightened his already impeccable shirt cuffs, and walked out the door, leaving behind only a cold, distant silhouette.

I sat there on the sofa, at a loss, until the shrill sound of the phone ringing jolted me.

I tilted my head back, forcing the tears away, then went upstairs to change and prepare to meet my mother.

A hotel waiter in a gold-trimmed white uniform pushed open the hotel door. A lady sitting on the lobby sofa stood up with a radiant smile, calling out to me: “Yingying, over here!”

My mother was always elegant and refined, dressed in a pearl-white blouse paired with a peacock-blue long skirt. She looked radiant.

She came over and hugged me: “Yingying, have you grown taller?”

“Mom, I drink milk every night,” I said with genuine happiness, hugging her and smiling.

She pinched my cheek: “Mm, good. Your skin is so smooth and soft.”

“But,” she glanced at my eyes, “why are they swollen?”

“Ai ai ai,” I pouted and complained: “I’ve been staying up late every night studying for my final exams.”

She chuckled: “Your father and I were both reckless in our youth, but you’ve always been so diligent and obsessed with your studies. I wonder whose genes you inherited.”

I glared at her: “If I don’t study, what else can I do?”

Her brow furrowed slightly, perhaps reminded of the years I spent at boarding school. She fell silent for a moment: “Well, Mom’s back now.”

I knew she felt regret and guilt, so I quietly held her hand tighter.

The restaurant staff led us to our seats.

My mother walked in gracefully, holding my arm. Many men turned their heads to look at us. My mother smiled, her charm captivating. Even at eighty, I’m sure men would still fall for her.

In the private room of the high-end Chinese restaurant, every table and chair exuded an air of ancient elegance.

I poured tea for my mother. She first talked about her work in Hong Kong, then asked about my studies. I inquired about her life in Venice, and she mentioned her partner, Simone, saying she might be ready to settle down with him.

“He’s already proposed to me,” she smiled, “but I think things are fine as they are right now.”

We inevitably had to talk about Lao Jiazhuo.

“He’s good,” I recalled the little details of our life together, but now they seemed shadowed by something. My heart felt suspended, yet I still smiled: “Mom, he treats me well. At least I’m living a free and happy life.”

“Yingying,” she reached out to gently stroke my head: “You’re so young to get married. Kids like you don’t really understand what life and love are.”

I retorted: “And you do?”

She burst out laughing: “Everyone says you don’t look like my daughter, but you’ve definitely inherited my most stubborn pride. On the surface, you seem obedient, but who knows when you’ll suddenly run off to the ends of the earth.”

I thought about it for a moment, feeling somewhat reluctant: “Didn’t I inherit your beauty?”

Mom teased me: “The Jiang family always says you look like your father.”

Thinking about her earlier comment about running away, I imagined the rest of my life. It didn’t seem like I had any plans to leave. “Mom, Grandma Lao is very kind. The whole family is lively and warm. I actually long for a happy family life.”

She suddenly became melancholic: “You’re my only daughter. I’ve given you everything I have, teaching you not to lose yourself for a man. But I don’t even know what true happiness is myself.”

Facing the sudden melancholy of an older woman made me uneasy. I quickly composed myself and focused on spending quality time with her—eating, shopping, and later having coffee. After we had our fill of fun, I sent her back to the hotel.

The next day, my mother flew away.

For some reason, I felt a deep sadness in my heart, as if I might never see her again. I insisted on seeing her off at the airport.

At the bustling departure gate, my mother pushed her luggage cart, turned back, and waved at me with a smile.

I stood there, watching her until her figure disappeared around the corner.

Unable to hold back, I covered my eyes and let the tears fall.