Chapter 60

Speaking of her late husband, who had passed away many years ago, Qin Fengru couldn’t hold back anymore. Her voice carried a faint choke.

Lin Huayan, who had just taken a book from the shelf and was about to flip through it, heard the sudden shift in Qin Fengru’s tone. Her heart tugged.

She set the book down and turned to offer Qin Fengru a comforting hug.

But Qin Fengru waved her off unappreciatively and lowered her eyes. “Back then, when you declared you’d stick to celibacy for life, there were a lot of things I held back from saying to you. Now’s the perfect time to get them off my chest.”

“It’s a bit corny, but he’s been gone nearly seven years now. After he passed, before my second marriage, I dated two or three others. But my feelings for him and my thoughts on our marriage never changed.” Qin Fengru looked up at Lin Huayan.

Tears glistened in her eyes, rolling gently.

The sight moved Lin Huayan deeply, her own eyes growing hot.

A love marathon spanning over a decade, from school uniforms to wedding dresses—Qin Fengru’s bond with him had been so solid, so faithful, and she was the strongest witness to it all.

“Even if I’d known in advance that he was fated to die young, if heaven arranged for us to meet, I still think I’d have fallen for him, married him, and stayed by his side—skin and bones though he became—without a single regret, right up to his very last day.”

“Because I loved him, and he loved me.”

“Old Lin, love is selfless, but also selfish. Selfless because you want her to have it better than you do; selfish because you want to be the one sharing that better life with her. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought that way?”

Lin Huayan’s expression said it all: She had. And she truly had.

Once your heart belongs to someone, how could you not crave a life together?

“So, Old Lin, nothing beats the happiness of two people in love overcoming all obstacles to stay together—even if time is short, even if one has to go first. As long as you’ve cherished each other, that love is already complete.”

In love. Together. Complete.

Love’s greatest regret isn’t one leaving first—it’s the two never staying together.

Was that what Qin Fengru wanted to tell her?

“You…” Lin Huayan started, then trailed off.

“Me what?”

Qin Fengru sniffed hard, pulled over the chair matching the desk, and sat down. She grabbed a tissue and continued, “Unlike some people who just hide away to cry. Get me a glass of water—my throat’s on fire.”

“…”

“Hot water, with a spoonful of honey!”

Aside from her parents, Lin Huayan had only ever waited on Lou Yixuan and Qin Fengru like this.

She followed CEO Qin’s orders and brought over a cup of honey water. “Here.”

She thought the water would calm Qin Fengru down, but instead, she seized the moment to keep going. “It’s rare for us to have a shared topic in love matters. Let me tell you about my second chance at love.”

…

On February 13th, Lin Huayan returned to her parents’ home two days before the official Spring Festival holiday began.

She joined her mom and dad in a thorough spring cleaning, pasting spring couplets, and shopping for household essentials and New Year’s goods to prep for the holiday.

February 14th—Valentine’s Day.

They were eating breakfast when Zhou Chunping cut straight to it. “Everyone online’s saying today is some kind of holiday. You celebrating or what? Go on out—come back tonight or tomorrow, doesn’t matter. Eve of the Eve isn’t till the day after…”

“Mom, I’m by myself. Not celebrating.”

“You’re really not?” Zhou Chunping was anxious. How’s she still single?

“Nope.”

“Sigh! Fine, if not, then not. We’ll make dumplings at home. Dad, head to the market after you eat—get two jin of fresh meat and some veggies. Save the stuff in the freezer for the actual holiday.”

“I’ll go buy them.”

“You sit!” Zhou Chunping pressed her daughter down and gestured at Lin Jiazhong across from them. “Hurry after you’re done. Two jin of meat, three jin of dumpling wrappers. For the fillings, Huayan—y’know, her. What kind does she like?”

“…”

“I’m asking you! Don’t you know? How could you not know?”

“…Mushroom.”

“That’s my girl.” Zhou Chunping turned and bossed him around. “You hear our daughter? Mushroom meat filling.”

Lin Jiazhong hurriedly gulped down his last bit of hot congee, not even wiping his mouth before shuffling off. “Got it, got it. Meat and mushrooms.”

They’d never made mushroom meat dumplings at home before.

Wonder if they taste good.

At the door, Lin Jiazhong paused before opening it. “Mushroom meat for sure? What about leek meat, lotus root meat, shepherd’s purse meat? A bit of each?”

Zhou Chunping nudged her daughter. “Your dad’s asking. Mix it up, no repeats? Maybe…”

“She doesn’t eat leeks.”

“No leeks!” Zhou Chunping called out. “You can get ’em if you want—make your own and eat ’em yourself. The rest of us don’t like ’em.”

Lin Jiazhong let out a frustrated breath. No say in this house.

After the mother-daughter duo cleared the table, Lin Huayan went out to the balcony to catch some sun.

She watered her mother’s flowers while she was at it.

But Zhou Chunping came over with her phone. “Huayan, uh, that thing—do you have any photos on your phone?”

Lin Huayan nearly drowned the jasmine.

“Hey, don’t ruin my flowers.” Zhou Chunping swapped the phone for the watering can and grabbed her wrist. “I don’t care—Fengru already saw. I wanna see too. I’m your mom!”

…Qin Fengru strikes again. What mind-melting potion did she feed Mom this time?

“Just a peek, one look. Promise I won’t ask a thing.”

“Mom, there’s nothing there. What’s the point of you looking?”

Zhou Chunping was desperate for her daughter’s happiness, even resorting to tough talk. “No point? You’re so stubborn once you set your mind on someone—that’s it for life.”

“You let me see her clearly, and I can close my eyes in peace someday.”

“Mom, what exactly did Qin Fengru tell you?”

“None of your business.” Zhou Chunping tossed the watering can back on the ledge irritably. “Just say yes or no.”

Could she say no?

Not when “close my eyes in peace” was on the table.

Lin Huayan took a deep breath, met her mother’s gaze, and conceded. “Fine, look.”

Zhou Chunping’s face lit up faster than a March day. She stared at her daughter’s phone like a kid who’d scored candy. “Hurry up, then!”

“Don’t tell Dad.”

“Not a word. Promise.”

Lin Huayan unlocked her phone and pulled up the group photo from her WeChat favorites.

But before she could explain where it came from, Zhou Chunping snatched it away.

Like she was afraid Lin Huayan would back out. “Oh, a group shot! You all look like beauties. Which one’s her?”

“…”

Lin Huayan reached to point, but Zhou Chunping stopped her, shielding the phone and tilting away. “Wait, wait—don’t tell me. Let Mom guess. See if I’m right.”

She’d grilled Qin Fengru too, but Qin had spilled plenty she shouldn’t while clamming up on the rest—just teasing that she looked like a fairy, a match made in heaven for their Old Lin.

Just how “fairy-like” was she?

Those xianxia dramas called every flying actress a goddess or immortal, but few really fit.

If TV wasn’t immortal, how much more could real life be?

The other three women had long hair: the tallest looked crisp and refreshing, the ponytail one gentle, the wavy-haired one elegant with the sweetest smile.

Describing them as “fairies” in casual short-sleeves and long pants? Hard to picture.

Zhou Chunping memorized each face, mentally pairing them with her daughter.

Her girl was cool and aloof, face always neutral.

The little one shoulder-to-shoulder with her fits best—faces match too.

Looking closer, their heads were tilted toward each other. Clear as day.

But…

“Huayan, how old is she?” Zhou Chunping didn’t name who, but Lin Huayan knew Mom had nailed it.

“Mom, you promised no questions.”

“Oops, I didn’t mean—I mean, look at me running my mouth.”

Zhou Chunping babbled incoherently, dying to ask more but bound by her promise. She handed the phone back. “The little one next to you, right? You four—fine, fine, no questions. Point her out.”

It wasn’t disinterest—it was safer knowing less.

Lin Huayan took the phone. “No need. You got it right.”

…So young. Daughter’s worried about the age gap, parents interfering?

No wonder Fengru said to boost her confidence, nudge her to chase her heart boldly, stop overthinking.

As Lin Huayan headed inside, Zhou Chunping yanked her back. “Age has its perks—you’re mature, steady, got a house, car, stable job. You’ll take perfect care of that little lady, right?”

…Mom, wanna hear yourself?

“Savings not much? Don’t worry—Mom’s got you. All yours. Won’t short her.”

“…”

“Show some guts!”

Zhou Chunping gripped both her daughter’s arms, earnest and urgent. “Listen to Mom—you’re great, really, top-notch! Filial at home, respected outside. If I had a son—no, daughter or son, doesn’t matter—I’d pick you as in-law in a heartbeat.”

“…”

“Say something! You bottle everything up—how can I help?”

Zhou Chunping was frantic enough to pry her mouth open. “If you’re scared folks back home will cause trouble, move away! Your dad and I are sturdy enough—we’ll look after each other. No need to worry. Sort your love life, give us peace of mind—that beats any tonic or supplement.”

Once again, Lin Huayan felt her mother’s pure, unadorned love warming her to the core.

She hugged her mom. “Okay, Mom. I get it. I know what you mean.”

“Knowing’s not enough—act on it! Before Mom gets dementia, give me another daughter, yeah?”

“…”

Lin Jiazhong returned loaded with bags.

By midday, the three of them teamed up to make over two hundred dumplings in three flavors.

Mushroom meat ones were the most numerous—and Lin Jiazhong hadn’t touched a single one.

His wrapping skills were awful; the results were too hideous.

They crammed the freezer full. Zhou Chunping stored all the mushroom meat ones in the dedicated compartment to prevent sticking.

“Good thing your dorm has a freezer. Take ’em all back after New Year for your friend. This bag’s lotus root and shepherd’s purse mix—give some to Fengru when she visits for the holiday.”

She made dumplings several times a year, and extras often went to Qin Fengru, who loved her seasoned fillings.

No one who’d tasted her cooking ever complained.

After dinner, Lin Huayan retreated to her room and stared at the photo she’d taken: a full box of mushroom meat dumplings.

A tiny impulse stirred. She wanted to send it to Lou Yixuan—[Made you dumplings. Mushroom meat filling.]

Or—[Homemade mushroom meat dumplings? I’ll bring them after New Year.]

But what kind of overture was that?

She wanted to be good to Lou Yixuan, couldn’t help it—like a deep-rooted instinct, a profound love.

Loving someone wasn’t hard for her; giving all her love wasn’t either. The hard part was coexisting with the pain and suffering that came with it.

And convincing herself…

To love the one she wanted with all her might, savor the joy of being together now, and ignore everything else.

She should’ve figured this out sooner—then their reunion wouldn’t be this tangled mess.

She’d avoided it for eight years because, until last summer, she’d never imagined seeing Lou Yixuan again—especially after that surgery years ago.

Life was full of surprises.

There were truly many.

Lin Huayan didn’t send a message. She habitually scrolled through Moments as usual, but there were still no new updates from Lou Yixuan.

It had been half a month since Lou Yixuan posted that photo of a roasted whole lamb before the holiday break, captioning it 【Delicious】. Lin Huayan hadn’t seen any new posts or text from her since.

Previously, she’d been browsing from her own Moments feed—what if she’d simply missed it?

So she tapped Lou Yixuan’s profile picture from their chat window and checked her Moments directly, hoping to spot any new photos or updates.

But not only were there no new posts, even the pinned one—”The flowers have bloomed”—had vanished.

The Moments page was a blank void, save for one frigid system prompt. Those scant dozen characters struck like a barrage of arrows piercing the cold air, one after another, lancing straight toward Lin Huayan.