Chapter 32

Lin Huayan got out of the car and opened the trunk.

Thanks to Qin Fengru, the large canvas storage box with compartments was like a treasure chest. It held emergency-use winter blankets, scarves, disposable paper cups, towels, slippers, and other everyday essentials. There were also medical supplies: motion sickness pills, painkillers, iodine swabs, bandages, fever patches, and masks.

The latest addition was a winter essential—the hand warmer. Half the size of a palm, it was meant to be slipped into a pocket after activation.

Qin Fengru knew she wasn’t afraid of the cold and wouldn’t use things like body or foot warmers, so she’d bought this pocket-sized hand warmer instead.

Today was the first time Lin Huayan thought Qin Fengru’s “new addition” had come at just the right moment.

Lou Yixuan was sensitive to cold with icy hands—this would be perfect for her.

She grabbed the entire bag of hand warmers, then the painkillers. She picked up a small blanket but put it back, opting for the scarf instead.

They were all clean, but the blanket was actually one her mother used, while the scarf was her own.

When you let someone into your heart—whether you might become lovers, whether you might spend your lives together—you never want their body to carry the scent of anyone but you.

No matter how magnanimous or resigned you try to be, you just don’t want it. You can spin a thousand flowery lies to dress it up, turn truth into fiction, fool others—but not yourself. Actions don’t lie.

Even if it’s your closest kin or dearest friend, no. For things touching Lou Yixuan’s body, Lin Huayan wanted only her own.

This was probably the only possessiveness she could show in her feelings for Lou Yixuan.

She returned to the car from the left side and first tore open two hand warmers, handing them over. “Hold them in your hands or put them in your pockets—one on each side. They’ll warm up soon. You can press one on your stomach too; it might ease the pain.”

Australia’s winters weren’t as harsh as Huai’an City’s, so Lou Yixuan had never seen or used anything like this for warmth.

But it was from Lin Huayan, so she took it obediently and slipped it into her pocket.

“Does it hurt a lot? If it’s unbearable, there’s painkillers—you can take some now.”

Lin Huayan wasn’t sure if Lou Yixuan’s earlier comment about popping a painkiller at home had been casual dismissal or genuine.

Periods were always uncomfortable, but painkillers weren’t always necessary.

“Has it expired?”

“What?”

Lou Yixuan lifted her chin. “…Your meds.”

She was happy to see Lin Huayan return with an armful of things, but a pang of sadness hit her too.

Something like this little heat pack—Lin Huayan couldn’t have bought it herself. And definitely not just for me.

But the one who got her to keep it in the trunk? That could only be her.

“…” The meds weren’t hers after all. Even with full trust in Qin Fengru, Lin Huayan checked the date again.

Lou Yixuan chuckled softly. “I won’t take it. Too many make you dumb.”

Hearing the amusement in her voice, Lin Huayan knew the pain wasn’t unbearable, so she smiled too. She set the pill box aside and unfolded the scarf she’d draped over her lap, draping it over Lou Yixuan.

This autumn-winter cashmere scarf was about the size of a shawl when spread out. “It’s washed. Just cover up with it.”

Lou Yixuan cooperatively tucked her chin into the scarf, inhaling the faint lingering scent of Lin Huayan. Her mood shifted abruptly, and she mumbled, “Thanks.”

If this body pain could buy Lin Huayan’s boundless care, then let it hurt. As much as it wants.

Her already palm-sized face looked even smaller now.

A few stray strands of hair fell across her face, veiling her brows and eyes.

Lin Huayan hesitated repeatedly but withdrew her hand without brushing them away.

Looping arms or draping scarves could be mere colleague-level closeness. But touching hair or cheeks? That was a whole different level of intimacy.

Not closeness—flirtation.

She’d never flirted with anyone. Except eight years ago, when she’d belatedly realized she’d done it with Lou Yixuan.

Lou Yixuan ignored her messy hair too.

She used it as cover, immersing herself in Lin Huayan’s scent—peaceful, calm, drowsy.

“Sleep for a bit.”

Before pulling back, Lin Huayan reached out to tuck the scarf behind Lou Yixuan’s shoulders, guarding against it slipping during the drive.

She silenced the phone’s navigation alerts and drove as smoothly as possible toward their destination. With each traffic light, her glances to the right grew softer.

Now that she knew Lou Yixuan’s address, all those midnight worries adrift without anchor had a place to land.

Sunlight or moonlight, wind or rain—they could carry her thoughts there now.

Lou Yixuan hadn’t actually fallen asleep. She just didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to dwell on Lin Huayan’s inconsistencies. She let her mind go blank.

The scenery outside grew familiar—they were nearing the apartment gate.

She shifted, sat up, and pulled her hands from the toasty pockets. As she gathered and folded the scarf, she said, “Teacher Lin, just drop me at the gate. I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Lin Huayan glanced over. “It’s cold out. Big temp drop when you get out—keep the scarf on. Be good.”

She signaled and pulled over slowly.

Lou Yixuan obeyed, unfolding the half-folded scarf and wrapping it twice around her neck.

Once bundled, she turned to Lin Huayan, blinked, and smiled. “All wrapped up.”

“Mm.”

Such an obedient little cat.

Such an obedient Lou Yixuan.

“Take this bag of hand warmers.” With the car stopped, Lin Huayan handed it over. “My best friend got them for emergencies. You need them more than I do.”

“Oh.” Lou Yixuan smiled as she took it. “Thanks, Teacher Lin. And thanks to Teacher Lin’s friend.”

Lin Huayan wanted to explain—that one was just a friend.

“No need to thank me. See you next week.”

“See you next week, Teacher Lin.”

Lin Huayan watched Lou Yixuan get out and walk away until she was out of sight. She touched the Peace Buckle symbolizing “completion” on the mount—and surprisingly, it felt warm.

Can anyone in this world truly cast aside greed?

She couldn’t.

Because she wanted both peace and completion…

But heaven was cruel. Just when she dared hope for a future as merely “Lin Huayan,” it reminded her of the messy complications trailing behind her. She and the pure, unblemished Lou Yixuan were such a mismatch.

Her phone on the mount lit up with a call from Mom. What good news could that be?

“Hello, Mom.”

“Huayan, your second aunt just called. About you—said the second child in the youngest’s family was born. C-section.”

Lin Huayan stayed silent.

After a pause, her mother continued. “You have no classes this weekend. Tomorrow, make time to go to the hospital with me? Just to see. No need to buy anything or give money—I’ll handle that. Just show your face. I won’t force you on anything else.”

“Okay, tomorrow morning I’ll come back and pick you up.”

Mom said no money, but she transferred two thousand anyway.

With a note: [Mom, take the money, or I won’t come tomorrow.]

…

Saturday morning at seven, Lin Huayan drove off campus. By 7:20, she picked up her mother at home, then headed nearly three hundred kilometers to Pingxin Town.

They arrived at the Town Hospital past eleven.

“Second sis, third aunt, you came all this way—tired. I’ll take the stuff.” Greeting them downstairs at the inpatient building was her second uncle’s youngest son—Lin Chuanyao.

A tall, burly young man working at a local logistics company. His job kept him on the road constantly, weathered by sun and rain, his skin a healthy wheat tone.

Lin Huayan dodged his hand. “You take what’s in my mom’s hands.”

“That’s heavy too—give it here.” Lin Chuanyao insisted on taking the heavier fruits and dairy from her first.

“The youngest meant well—give it to him. What I’ve got is baby stuff, all light.” Her mother urged.

No point arguing. Lin Huayan let go.

Hands in pockets, she followed silently as they headed inside.

The Town Hospital was small; the inpatient building only five stories. Lin Chuanyao’s wife was in the maternity ward on the third floor—a quick two flights of stairs.

Her mother chatted with Lin Chuanyao along the way.

Lin Huayan tuned it out, wondering if Lou Yixuan was still in pain today.

Entering the room, Zhou Chunping pulled a thick red envelope from the leather bag slung at her waist and placed it by the crib.

“Two thousand from your second aunt, another thousand from third grandpa and grandma. Wishing our little Haohao health and happiness.”

The envelope was given.

Who in their family pocketed it was their business.

Zhou Chunping didn’t meddle in their affairs and wasn’t close with them anyway.

Dragging Lin Huayan here was pure formality—to avoid the old couple badmouthing them behind their backs and tarnishing their little family’s reputation.

Over the years, she and her husband—as brother and sister-in-law—had done what they should and shouldn’t.

Upright in conduct, they feared no troublemakers.

The double room couldn’t hold a crowd. Besides Lin Chuanyao’s wife, the other new mother and her own mother were there too.

Zhou Chunping’s envelope hadn’t sat for ten seconds before her second aunt—the baby’s grandma—snatched it up. “Chuanyao, I’ll hold onto the red envelope from your third aunt and them for now, okay?”

Lin Huayan was the only one who gave the barely noticeable new mother on the bed a cold, pitying glance.

The woman’s face looked awful.

But her gaze toward her husband was blocked by her mother-in-law. In the end, she could only force a pale smile. “Thanks, third aunt, third uncle, second sis.”

Gifts given, faces shown—Lin Huayan couldn’t stay another second.

“Mom, you chat with them. I’ll step out. Twelve o’clock, I’ll call you.”

They’d agreed in the car beforehand: stay till noon at most, grab lunch on the street, then drive home.

“Okay, go ahead. If you’re tired, find somewhere to sit and wait.”

“Mm.”

Lin Huayan turned and left without another word.

Lin Chuanyao hurried after her, calling “Second sis!” to keep her longer—but they were both blocked at the door by Lin Cuidan, who appeared just in time, holding Lin Chuanyao’s eldest daughter.

“Second sis, you… just arriving and already leaving?”

Years of hard labor without self-care had wrecked her skin.

Bulging eyes, thick neck—she was barely four years older than Lin Huayan, but pushing forty, she looked gaunt and aged like fifty.

Facial wrinkles stood out, white hairs stark on her head.

The girl she held was painfully thin too, malnourished-looking, as if abused by her parents.

But these days, who had kids going hungry or cold?

The girl’s clothes and shoes looked seventy to eighty percent new.

The most jarring thing? Her dry, sparse, yellowish hair, combed into a total mess.

Lin Cuidan shook the girl’s arm. “Cat got your tongue? Say hi to second aunt—saw her at Mid-Autumn, don’t tell me you forgot?”

The girl timidly whispered, “Second aunt.”

“Excuse me.” Lin Huayan’s voice was icy as she asked Lin Cuidan to step aside.

Being ignored to her face infuriated Lin Cuidan; the fake smile on her face nearly cracked.

Zhou Chunping rushed over to smooth things, pulling Lin Cuidan inside. “Cuidan’s here too? Huayan drove early to pick me up, skipped breakfast. I told her to grab something. Still a long drive this afternoon—if she crashes from hunger, how will we get home?”

“Sis, thanks for watching Qingqing for us last night.”

Lin Chuanyao set his daughter down, about to tell her to go to Mommy, when Lin Huayan spoke. “Qingqing, wanna come out and eat with me?”

Qingqing’s eyes widened a bit.

She wanted to so badly, but didn’t dare say it. “Daddy, can I go with second aunt?”

“Of course. Second aunt’s family—we take food, stuff, toys from her. Never from strangers.”

“Got it, Daddy.”

With permission, Qingqing approached Lin Huayan and looked up at her.

Lin Huayan nodded to her mother and Lin Chuanyao, extending her right hand for Qingqing to hold.

“I’ll bring her back before twelve.”

“Thanks for the trouble, second sis.”

As they stepped out hand-in-hand, Lin Cuidan’s resentful complaint drifted after them. “Who the hell does she think she takes after with that attitude? Always comes back with a sour face. Thinks she’s better than us just ’cause she’s got it good? We siblings all gotta put up with her crap.”

“Enough, enough. Shut your trap—your third aunt is still here. If you picked a bad man because of your poor eyesight, go vent at your own home.”

“My eyesight’s poor? Ha, yeah, sure, it’s all my fault. What kind of prospects do I have? What kind does our family have? Which good man would look at me? A crooked melon paired with a rotten date—that’s my fate. And you all wonder why you had me too early, missing out on her Lin Huayan’s good luck. She’s all glamorous in the big city, so why hasn’t she found some rich guy to marry and let you all bask in the glory? She’s pushing forty and still unwanted. If you ask me…”

“Shut your mouth!”

Lin Huayan sneered inwardly as she listened to the mother-daughter duo bicker.

Sharp-tongued and venomous—even worse than her own mother.

If there was a next time, she’d really love to bring Qin Fengru along. Not to fight them, just to hear Qin Fengru curse them out.

Say all the things she couldn’t.

After leaving the hospital, Lin Huayan led Qingqing, familiar with the area, to the fast-food joint that all kids loved.

Just a few minutes’ walk.

It was the only one in town.

She ordered a chicken burger, a pair of chicken wings, a snack platter, and an ice cream sundae.

“Enough?”

“Second Aunt, I… I can’t finish it all.”

“No rush. Take your time.”

“Mm! Thanks, Second Aunt!”

Lin Huayan didn’t ask her a single question. Qingqing ate her food, while she ordered a cup of hot soy milk and barely touched it.

She crossed her legs, leaned back, and gazed vacantly outside through the glass door.

Her posture wasn’t exactly proper—tilted overall, left arm draped casually over the armrest, right hand holding the paper cup and spinning it idly.

Taking a kid out to eat in a place like this was the same in theory, but Lou Yixuan and her “little baby” were beaming with smiles, faces pressed together for selfies at a proper KFC. Here she sat across from her niece at a knockoff KFC, no different from strangers.

Her phone buzzed on the table.

Twice.

Three times.

She couldn’t see the sender from the lock screen, but she had a strong hunch.

Or maybe she just missed her that much.

Her hunch proved right.

【Lou Yixuan: Teacher Lin, I can’t wash your scarf.】

【Lou Yixuan: So I’m not planning to return it.】

【Lou Yixuan: How about I buy you a new one?】

By the time she’d read the three messages, her lips had curved upward without her even realizing it.

Last night, when Lou Yixuan got out of the car without mentioning washing it to return, she’d wondered if Lou Yixuan might do like she had with Du Heming’s hair tie and gym shorts—bring a new scarf next Wednesday.

And flash those little dimples while saying: I’ve worn yours, so I won’t give it back.

【Lin Huayan: Trade old for new?】

【Lou Yixuan: I like the old one better. It has more sentimental value.】

【Lin Huayan: How’s your body today? Feeling better?】

Lou Yixuan was typing…

But Lin Huayan sent her next message first: 【If you don’t want to wash it, don’t. Don’t hurt your hand. It’s yours now—do what you want with it.】

【Lou Yixuan: Much better.】

【Lou Yixuan: You can give it, but I’ll still replace it. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll go shopping. If I see something good, I’ll snap a pic for you to pick.】

So stubborn.

Yeah, Lou Yixuan wasn’t that penniless high schooler anymore.

She’d entered society, become financially independent. Her paintings sold, and she had a well-paying stable job.

She might even be a little rich girl with more money than her now. The only edge Lin Huayan had left over Lou Yixuan, besides age, seemed to be gone.

She should be happy about that. Proud, even.

【Lin Huayan: Then remember to snap the price tag too.】

【Lou Yixuan: Teacher Lin, talking money hurts feelings. My hand’s fine, but you’ve wounded my heart.】

【Lou Yixuan: What are you gonna do about it? [Big Cry]】

This was the first emoji Lou Yixuan had sent her since they reconnected.

She held her phone closer, peering to see if this teary-eyed one was the “poor little thing” Du Heming had mentioned.

“Second Aunt.”

Lin Huayan looked up at the sound, index finger nudging her silver frames. “What’s up?”

Across from her, Qingqing stared dreamily, left hand clutching a half-eaten drumstick, right holding a plastic spoon for the ice cream, bits of fried chicken crumbs on her lips.

“You look so pretty when you smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen you smile.”