Carrying this exclusive news, Song Cong first shared it with Du Man.

Though Du Man lived in the staff quarters when Jing’s father passed away, she hadn’t interacted much with the three musketeers. After Song Cong finished explaining, he asked her, “What would you do in this situation?”

He truly needed perspective from someone outside the whirlpool.

“From my view, moving on is natural,” Du Man didn’t mind at all that Song Cong had excluded her from this matter. She understood his concerns and spoke from her standpoint, “While lifelong companionship is praiseworthy, having the courage to embrace someone new and welcome a fresh start is equally admirable. Most people probably think like me, so…”

“So we need to help Qichi be less subjective,” Song Cong continued.

“Yes.” Du Man went on, “If Qichi could step back and see – that person isn’t just his mother, but a woman who lost her beloved husband, who has grieved and hurt, and now that her children are grown, she’s met someone else and wants to live well for her remaining years. She shouldn’t be denied this right.” Du Man added after a pause, “Though for Jing Qichi, stepping back will be difficult.”

“I should give Huan Er a heads up,” Song Cong said after a moment of silence. “Everyone will know eventually.”

“Yes,” Du Man nodded. “Better to help him process this emotionally with everyone’s support than have him discover it suddenly and struggle to accept it.”

Song Cong, ever thoughtful, sought Du Man’s opinion again, “Should we wait a while? Qichi just started at the R&D center, he’s probably overwhelmed right now.”

“You…” Du Man poked his forehead. “Of course, you need to tell Huan Er right away. Little Chen has her ways, you can just be backup support.”

Song Cong smiled, realizing she was right. “True.”

Huan Er always had more ideas for handling that guy than he did.

“The sooner Jing Qichi knows,” Du Man winked, “the better it is for his mother.”

Song Cong froze.

He suddenly realized that telling Du Man about this was the correct decision.

Precisely because Du Man stood outside their circle, she could see things from a broader perspective – while he was only concerned about his friend’s acceptance, she noticed Jing’s mother, the person who truly deserved consideration, and her happiness.

Song Cong turned his head and quickly pecked her cheek.

“Hey!” Du Man glared at him. “I just applied foundation this morning!”

“You don’t need it,” Song Cong smiled, wiping the spot he’d kissed. “You’re naturally beautiful.”

Not just in appearance – Du Man’s heart was as pure as her character. That purity was an inherent, subtle kindness in her bones, an empathy that allowed her to remain grounded and perceptive of others’ feelings even amid life’s chaos.

“Next week or the week after,” Song Cong asked with certainty, “come home with me?”

Du Man exclaimed, “To your home?”

Song Cong teased her, “If Doctor Du isn’t thinking about life’s big matters, I’d better pay more attention.”

“But I haven’t had time to prepare!”

Song Cong was about to dispel her concerns about meeting his parents when Du Man muttered to herself, “Your parents won’t test me on specific signs of bone fractures or principles of trauma debridement, right? If I fail at that, I’ll never be able to show my face again.”

What kind of thinking turns meeting a boyfriend’s parents into a medical examination?

Song Cong sighed helplessly, “They won’t.”

“No way,” Du Man shook her head like a rattling drum. “I’m nervous.”

Song Cong laughed at her battle-ready expression, “Come on, who tests clinical knowledge when meeting their future daughter-in-law?”

“Huh?” Du Man caught the title and blushed furiously.

“Besides, you have me,” Song Cong patted her head. “I’ll back you up if you can’t handle it.”

Du Man tugged his arm, “By the way, what do uncle and auntie like?”

“They like whatever I like.”

Without thinking, Du Man blurted out, “Then what do you like?”

Song Cong looked at her, eyes sparkling as he said one word: “You.”

Huan Er immediately called her mother after learning about Jing’s mother’s situation. The news was indeed sudden – even she felt so – and she dared not tell Jing Qichi without preparation.

“I heard from your Aunt Hao,” Mom Chen said. This call was expected. “It’s good that Song Cong found out. Sooner or later, it had to come out in the open.”

“Then Aunt Lin…”

“Hasn’t told her yet. Knowing now would just make her worry unnecessarily, especially since she’s afraid Qichi won’t accept it.”

Everyone fears hurting those they care about.

Huan Er made a sound of agreement and asked, “Mom, when did it start?”

“They’ve known each other for…” Mom Chen paused, “My, it’s been almost three years now since you were applying for your doctorate.”

Huan Er was surprised, “That long ago?”

“Yes, right when you’d just gotten accepted to the doctoral program. One day, your uncle said he wanted to introduce someone to your Aunt Lin. Worried about the awkwardness of meeting alone, he suggested gathering everyone for a meal, just to get acquainted.” Mom Chen shared everything with her daughter, “It was a weekend, and coincidentally, Qichi came home the day we planned dinner. I figured he’d just make do with food at home while his mom was out, so I didn’t go to that first meeting. Qichi ate at our place that day.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“I did, but Qichi probably wasn’t paying attention,” Mom Chen recalled. “After all, it was just an initial meeting, nothing certain, so I didn’t mention it again. Besides, Qichi wasn’t in a good mood then – you’d waited until the last moment to tell him about your doctorate. Who wouldn’t be upset? Your mom was busy smoothing things over for you, couldn’t think about anything else.”

Huan Er gripped the phone tightly and sighed softly.

Mom Chen pressed her advantage, “Now you understand a parent’s heart, don’t you?”

Huan Er chuckled, flattering shamelessly, “Doctor Qian’s grace is unparalleled in the world!”

Mom Chen laughed and continued, “They’ve met several times over these years. Old Liu is sincere – when he learned about Qichi’s father, he even went to the cemetery to pay respects privately. Having such consideration without any family ties shows his good character. Old Liu never mentioned it; we only found out by chance later.”

“What else?” Huan Er wanted to learn more.

“Oh, there’s plenty,” Mom Chen thought for a moment. “Like early this year when Qichi’s uncle got sued and was scammed out of over 500,000 yuan. Your dad has an army buddy who transferred to the court system – they say the lawyer Old Liu helped find is nationally ranked, charging by the minute. Time reveals the true character, the daughter. Actions speak louder than words.”

It was clear now – everyone around Aunt Lin approved.

“Mom, I’ll talk to Qichi about it,” Huan Er steadied herself, suddenly remembering a summer scene of everyone picking grapes together. “Will Uncle Jing… rest easy?”

“He will,” Mom Chen was unusually serious. “This must be what Qichi’s father would want too.”

Huan Er had no perfect solution, just gradually introducing the idea through daily conversations. Like mentioning how her Russian friend Natasha’s father and stepmother brought her siblings to London, all five of them full of laughter and joy wherever they went; or remarking how time flies, with high school classmates already showing off their babies on social media, young families completely independent from their parents’ wings; or occasionally suggesting that Aunt Lin should go out more and make friends, since unlike before, they couldn’t return to Tianhe every weekend to keep her company.

Finding the balance wasn’t easy. Too deep, and Qichi might feel guilty; too shallow, and he might miss the underlying message; too much, and he’d worry about suddenly returning home and walking in on something; too little, and he might dismiss it as casual conversation.

Day after day, Huan Er carefully selected topics that seemed unrelated yet circled the same core. She never stated it directly, just patiently guiding Jing Qichi to step back and consider other possibilities.

The gradual influence showed results. One day, while discussing a burglary at a doctor’s home in the staff quarters – fortunately just theft without violence – Jing Qichi murmured, “When things like this happen, I can’t help worrying about my mom being alone.”

Huan Er initially wanted to comfort him with her own experience of “Old Chen being in the army while Doctor Qian guards an empty house,” but after some thought, she chose different words: “Even if something happened, Aunt Lin wouldn’t tell you, though she surely wishes she had someone to share her burdens.”

Jing Qichi fell silent.

It was already past eleven in China. Huan Er tactfully ended the conversation, “Get some rest, don’t stay up too late.”

She knew certain thoughts had taken root in his mind, though still just a seedling.

“Huan Er,” Jing Qichi called softly, “I’m… quite an ordinary son, aren’t I?”

“Not at all.”

“An intern in my team left early today to get a birthday cake for his mother,” Jing Qichi continued. “His mother follows the lunar calendar for her birthday, so the date changes every year. It’s easy to miss if you’re not careful. I remember my mom used to celebrate her lunar birthday too, but somehow it changed to the date on her ID card. Probably because I didn’t want to remember – I selfishly chose the more convenient day to wish her happy birthday.”

Huan Er understood his meaning and patiently comforted him, “For Auntie, just remembering makes her happy, she doesn’t care about the lunar or solar calendar. You even sent gifts back for Mother’s Day – that move made Song Cong and me look like ungrateful white-eyed wolves.”

It was an obvious joke, but Jing Qichi didn’t laugh.

“I…” his voice sank, and after a long pause he said, “Actually, I worry about her a lot.”

Huan Er thought, that the seedling in his heart must be growing wildly now.

Because what nourished it was a simple subject-predicate-object structure –

I worry about you.

As children grow into adults, they finally begin to understand relationships of companionship from an adult’s perspective. The past is important, memories are important, but none of these compare to the importance of the present.

The person before you should be the one most cherished.