Jiang Ruoqiao had inherited the finest genes from both her parents. She had been born with natural double eyelids — nurses in the maternity ward had marveled at her. In a row of newborns all looking practically identical, indistinguishable even to their own parents without wristbands, Jiang Ruoqiao had already attracted compliments in that most unremarkable stage of life, with people predicting she was sure to grow into a great beauty.

She had not let those predictions down. The older she got, the better she looked.

She had a classic oval face and almond-shaped eyes. Her mother had been a dancer, and so from around the age of four or five, Jiang Ruoqiao began dancing too. She never achieved anything particularly dazzling as a performer, but the training had given her excellent posture and a graceful figure — beautifully sloped shoulders, an elegantly long neck. At twenty, she had a sweet, fresh quality about her, the kind of face that stayed with you.

Before going out that day, she had styled her hair into a look that could never have been achieved with a curling iron.

Natural and lovely. A small clip tucked beside her ear softened what might otherwise have been a slightly mature hairstyle, adding a touch of girlish, unaffected charm.

She had put on a popular loose-fitting T-shirt in this year’s style — long enough to graze her upper thighs, with the hem of her denim shorts just barely visible beneath. Below, a pair of slender, straight legs. A brand-new pair of the latest sneakers completed the look. At twenty, heavy makeup was too much — at this age, with skin full of collagen, you could look radiant and vivid even bare-faced.

The Kendeji during summer break was absurdly crowded no matter what time of day you went, and Qingnian Road was right in the heart of the city with excellent transit links. Jiang Ruoqiao navigated around several people balancing trays and carefully made her way up to the second floor, following Lu Yicheng’s directions.

At a window seat on the second floor, she spotted Lu Yicheng.

She and Lu Yicheng were truly not at all close.

Jiang Ruoqiao still had some semblance of self-awareness — privately meeting up with her boyfriend’s good friend was, plainly speaking, not ideal behavior. If Lu Yicheng hadn’t texted her asking her to temporarily not mention their meeting to Jiang Yan, she would have given her boyfriend a full “report” of the situation.

That only deepened her curiosity.

What could it be — this matter that had compelled someone as typically reserved and composed as Lu Yicheng to specifically go around Jiang Yan to speak with her?

He gave off the impression of a composure and restraint that seemed beyond his years.

Those two words — *composed* and *restrained* — when Jiang Ruoqiao imagined a man they would fit, she thought of someone in their late twenties or thirties, or older.

And yet they suited Lu Yicheng perfectly, with not even a hint of incongruity.

A person like that would move steadily, step by step, toward his goal with unswerving resolve. Jiang Ruoqiao had always had a sense that, years from now at a class reunion, Lu Yicheng might not be the most spectacularly successful person in the room — but he would certainly be the one who had gotten there most solidly.

Jiang Ruoqiao headed over. It was only when she was almost at the table that she noticed a small boy sitting across from Lu Yicheng.

She didn’t think too much of it — Kendeji was always packed, and sharing a table was common. She just wondered where the child’s parents had gone.

“Lu Yicheng.” Jiang Ruoqiao came to a stop beside the table, umbrella still in hand.

As she stepped closer, a faint sweet floral fragrance drifted toward Lu Yicheng.

Lu Yicheng had perfectly normal aesthetic sensibilities — by his own assessment, Jiang Ruoqiao was strikingly, brilliantly beautiful.

The kind of beauty that was like the scenery Lu Yicheng encountered while hiking in the mountains. He could recognize it, appreciate it — but he would have no further thoughts about it.

He wouldn’t flush or indulge in idle fantasies the way some other boys might.

But today was different.

Lu Yicheng felt a distinct unease.

Especially now that he knew this person was his future wife, and that they had a son together. That sense of awkwardness and internal dissonance left him completely at a loss for how to act.

Lu Siyan’s eyes went perfectly round.

He stared at Jiang Ruoqiao. His lip quivered — and entirely forgetting the agreement he had made with Lu Yicheng, tears began rolling down his face.

Strictly speaking, in Lu Siyan’s memory, it seemed like his father had spent more time with him. His mother didn’t like crawling through play structures at the playground, and she didn’t enjoy putting Lego sets together. But even so, in little Lu Siyan’s heart, Mama came first. She was the person he loved most in the entire world.

He hadn’t seen Mama in a whole week!

Jiang Ruoqiao was suddenly flustered: “……”

She stepped back a few paces and nearly knocked over the large cup of cola on the neighboring table.

Lu Yicheng pressed his palm quickly over Lu Siyan’s mouth, trying to contain the situation.

Fortunately, the people around them glanced over for only a few seconds before deciding the child was just one of those unruly kids, and turned back to their burgers. Jiang Ruoqiao sat down with a look of puzzlement — not next to Lu Siyan, but beside Lu Yicheng, because she genuinely could not handle unruly children. She also hated crying and fussing toddlers more than almost anything else. The noise was enough to make her ears ache.

Seeing Lu Yicheng’s action, Jiang Ruoqiao hesitantly asked: “Your little brother?”

Who else but a brother or close family member would dare do something like that?

Lu Yicheng felt a trace of awkwardness.

He realized he had chosen the wrong location. He shouldn’t have picked somewhere as crowded as a Kendeji.

Somewhere quieter — where no outsiders would be around — would have been far better. Right now there were people everywhere, and it really wasn’t an ideal place to say what needed to be said.

Lu Siyan, feeling deeply wronged, expressed his displeasure by biting down on Lu Yicheng’s palm.

Lu Yicheng released him at that, fixing him with a warning look.

Lu Siyan wanted to fling himself into Jiang Ruoqiao’s arms.

Jiang Ruoqiao found the child rather peculiar — he looked at her as though she were a long-lost family member. She grew even more curious about whatever it was Lu Yicheng had brought her here to hear. She wasn’t good with small children she didn’t know, but given that this one was genuinely adorable, she curved her eyes into a smile and greeted him in the manner of a slightly eccentric older sister: “Hello there, little one.”

This time, without any prompt or warning from Lu Yicheng, Lu Siyan’s tears fell freely and without restraint.

He cried with great sincerity — the chicken wing in his hand suddenly unappetizing.

Unfortunately for him, both Jiang Ruoqiao and Lu Yicheng were twenty-year-old university students. Watching him cry, all either of them felt was: *this is so inconvenient. Why is he crying?*

Lu Yicheng knew Lu Siyan was his son, but knowing it and actually inhabiting the role of father were two entirely different things.

Looking at Lu Siyan felt much the same as looking at a distant relative’s child.

Jiang Ruoqiao was no different.

Faced with this little bean crying so hard he could barely catch his breath, she felt only a creeping awkwardness — and an inward grievance toward Lu Yicheng. If you had something to say, say it. Why bring a child along? And even if you had to bring one, shouldn’t you have at least warned her in advance?

Lu Yicheng said flatly: “Lu Siyan, stop crying.”

Lu Siyan, if not for still being invested in that promised meal at Bishengke, would have thrown himself into Jiang Ruoqiao’s arms and called out for Mama, refusing to let go ever again.

Five-year-old Lu Siyan was clever. He knew that many things were not right. His mother was much younger — same face, but something felt different — and it was precisely that sense of wrongness that held this little human back from throwing himself at her. It wasn’t just the Bishengke.

None of the three spoke.

After crying for a while, Lu Siyan’s appetite returned, and he buried himself in eating his burger and fries.

Children’s happiness really was that simple.

Both his mum and dad were there, at least.

Jiang Ruoqiao just wanted Lu Yicheng to get to the point without wasting a single moment. Once she’d heard him out, she could leave.

“What is it, exactly?” she asked. She had taken one sip of her iced coffee and found the taste off — she frowned and set it back down.

Lu Yicheng nodded toward Lu Siyan across the table. “It involves him. It’s rather serious. I misjudged the location — this isn’t really the right place to talk. Shall we go somewhere else?”

Jiang Ruoqiao: “……”

It involved the child.

What could that possibly have to do with her?

“Where did you have in mind?” she asked, keeping her patience.

Lu Yicheng thought for a moment. There were hotels and inns nearby — suitable enough, but unnecessary.

For one, two people going to get a room together would be rather strange.

And second, the cost-to-benefit ratio was too poor. There was no reason to rent a room for two or three hundred yuan — or more — just for a conversation.

“My place — how does that sound?” Lu Yicheng asked, direct and sincere.

If it weren’t for Lu Yicheng’s generally impeccable reputation, if it weren’t for her burning curiosity about the important matter he kept alluding to, Jiang Ruoqiao would have walked out on the spot.

What kind of person was this?

He was inviting her to his place?

Did he have any shame at all? Did he think they were close enough for that?

Jiang Ruoqiao let the smile fade from her face. “Lu Yicheng, are you messing with me?”

All of this was so completely inexplicable. First he summoned her here, and now he was inviting her back to his apartment. Even if his place were lined with gold, she’d want to spit at him.

Lu Yicheng hadn’t been sleeping well. All told, he had gotten less than four hours of sleep the night before. Already running low on energy, with a remarkably complicated situation in front of him — and no way to approach it that wasn’t absurd no matter how he framed it — he was at a loss. He couldn’t handle this alone, which meant the only option was to find the child’s mother and figure it out together.

After much deliberation, left with no better option, he said: “Check your messages — I’m sending you a photo.”

He paused, then added, out of consideration: “You might want to cover your mouth first.”

Jiang Ruoqiao: “?”

When had Lu Yicheng become such a fool?

She looked down, ignoring his suggestion.

Lu Yicheng hesitated, then sent her the paternity test report.

Jiang Ruoqiao opened it.

At first her expression was practically dismissive. Then, as she grasped what she was looking at, she looked up at Lu Yicheng with surprise in her eyes.

The report had been handled confidentially. Lu Yicheng had used a non-official testing facility — one where, provided you brought hair with the follicles attached, you weren’t required to provide any identifying information.

It only stated the result: father and son.

All well and good — but what did this have to do with her?

Unless this child was Jiang Yan’s.

Lu Yicheng knew his behavior must look utterly baffling. If the situation were reversed, he would have thought the other person had lost their mind. So before she could react, he needed to get his full explanation out. He fired off several messages in quick succession —

【This is the paternity test between me and him.】

【What I’m saying is — he is also your son.】

【I know this is unbelievable. But it is the truth.】

【He has traveled here from the future.】

【If you don’t believe me, you can get a paternity test done yourself.】

Lu Yicheng took a deep breath: 【The cost I can help cover. But please believe me — I’m not lying to you.】

Jiang Ruoqiao stared at the messages on her phone.

She genuinely wanted to ask Lu Yicheng how long he had been like this.

She had been dating Jiang Yan for several months now, and she had never heard anything about his roommate having some kind of serious condition.

—