Chapter 67 Part 1

Chi Nuan got off the bus one stop early and led Little Wutong to the market to buy groceries. Little Wutong looked pale from his cold, so Chi Nuan reached to take off his backpack. “Chi Zheng, let Mom carry it for you.”

Little Wutong shook his head. “No, Mom works really hard too.”

Chi Nuan gazed at Little Wutong’s messy little head and felt a surge of relief for the umpteenth time. Thankfully, Yue Yun had left him with her.

Taking care of a child was exhausting, but hadn’t Little Wutong been healing her all along? It was less that she took care of him and more that he gave her a home to belong to.

They stopped at the seafood stall, where Little Wutong said he wanted salt-and-pepper shrimp. Boss weighed out the shrimp, and as Chi Nuan took the bag, the sound of raindrops hitting the market’s roof rang out.

The downpour came suddenly. Vendors and shoppers alike murmured, “The big rain’s here.”

The rain that had been brewing all day finally fell.

Chi Nuan finished buying the groceries and squeezed with Little Wutong under the market entrance awning. After waiting a while, the rain showed no sign of letting up—in fact, it grew heavier.

She opened her ride-hailing app, but with the heavy rain and evening rush hour, no drivers picked up her request after a wait.

Little Wutong opened his umbrella. “Mom, let’s go home. It’s not far if we walk.”

Fortunately, they both had umbrellas. On the way home, only Little Wutong’s shoes and the lower half of his pants got wet; the rest of him stayed dry.

Worried he’d catch a chill on top of his cold, Chi Nuan turned on the hot water for him to take a longer shower. When he emerged in thick pajamas, she made him drink some ginger tea.

The way Little Wutong pinched his nose to drink the ginger tea reminded Chi Nuan of that rainy summer night when her brother had made some, and Gu Ningzi had frowned just as miserably while drinking it.

After finishing, Little Wutong grabbed his backpack to do homework, and Chi Nuan went into the kitchen to cook.

She boiled the shrimp first, soaked them in saltwater to marinate, prepared the dipping sauce, and served them at the table. By the time she finished the second dish and came out, Little Wutong sat at the table, diligently peeling shrimp one after another and dipping them in the sauce.

Hearing her footsteps, he turned back to her. “Mom, come eat. I peeled a bunch for you.”

In that instant, it felt like a pebble rolled through her heart, echoing endlessly in the emptiness.

Chi Nuan braced herself against the counter. A few minutes later, she washed her hands, dried them, and called Gu Ningzi.

The call went to auto-disconnect without an answer.

Chi Nuan lacked the courage to dial again.

Little Wutong didn’t eat much that evening. Before eight o’clock, he told Chi Nuan, “Mom, I want to sleep. I’m a bit tired.”

She checked his forehead temperature; he had a slight fever.

“Take some medicine before bed.”

Little Wutong obediently took the medicine, crawled under the covers in his room, and fell asleep soon after. Chi Nuan listened to the rain outside as she cleaned the house, a dull ache building in her lower abdomen—her period had arrived.

After her shower, she gently pushed open Little Wutong’s door to check on him.

His breathing sounded heavy. Chi Nuan touched his face and recoiled at the high fever, immediately turning on the light. Little Wutong’s face burned red.

She called his name, and he groggily opened his eyes. “Mom.”

His voice was hoarse from the fever.

Chi Nuan took his temperature right away. When the reading came up, she couldn’t sit still any longer. He’d already taken fever reducers, yet not only had it not gone down—it had spiked even higher.

Little Wutong had a history of febrile convulsions. Chi Nuan didn’t dare waste a second. She applied a fever patch to him and pulled him from the bed. “Little Wutong, we need to go to the hospital now.”

“Mom, I have no strength.” Little Wutong weakly half-closed his eyes.

Chi Nuan dressed him. “Mom will carry you.”

She struggled to lift him, her abdominal pain flaring up again. Gritting her teeth, she reached the door and suddenly remembered she hadn’t booked a ride.

She opened her mobile phone, but just like on the way back from the market, no drivers accepted.

Heavy rain, nearly ten at night.

Little Wutong lay limply against her. Chi Nuan raised the fare repeatedly, but luck never came.

His scorching heat seared her nerves; every tiny movement from him made her heart race in fear.

“Little Wutong, wait here. Mom will go ask the uncle on the third floor to drive us.” Chi Nuan laid him back on the sofa and rushed downstairs, but the third-floor apartment was dark. She rang the doorbell for ages with no answer.

No one was home.

Chi Nuan ran back upstairs, grabbed her mobile phone in a panic, opened her contacts, and hesitated briefly between Zhou Damao and Mr. Ji before sliding to Zhou Damao’s name. As she prepared to call, an incoming call cut in—”Gu Ningzi” lit up the screen.

The panic vanished in an instant. Gu Ningzi was the closest to her.

“I was in a meeting earlier. What’s up?”

Gu Ningzi’s calm voice filled her ear as the sight of Little Wutong dozing feverishly on the sofa came into view. Chi Nuan drew a breath. “…Gu Ningzi, help me.”

Gu Ningzi paused. “What’s wrong?”

With the rain pouring outside, Chi Nuan explained Little Wutong’s condition. Gu Ningzi fell silent for a long stretch. Just as Chi Nuan thought she’d refuse, Gu Ningzi said, “Wait twenty minutes. I’m coming now.”