Zhu Wenshu, with remarkable composure, pulled out her phone and searched it up.

And discovered there really were cases where the appendix formed on the left side.

But glancing sideways at Ling Chen’s expression, she could tell he was just messing with her — there was no way that was the real reason.

Zhu Wenshu didn’t press further.

Since he wasn’t willing to say, it was very likely this scar came from something he didn’t want to talk about.

The car drove on smoothly toward a destination Zhu Wenshu didn’t know.

Along the way, Ling Chen truly said nothing more.

Zhu Wenshu rested her head against the window, her eyes drifting back, unnoticed, toward Ling Chen’s waist again.

A soft sigh escaped in the car.

A few minutes later, the car pulled up in front of a Japanese restaurant.

Zhu Wenshu had never much cared for Japanese food, because the quality varied so drastically.

The affordable places were cheap but tasted worse than a roadside stall. The fine, delicious places existed too, but the prices were outrageous.

Still, Japanese restaurants had one advantage — the customer traffic tended to be low, and most had private booths, offering good privacy.

Zhu Wenshu and Ling Chen went in one after the other, and once the sliding screen door closed behind them, it shut out the outside world entirely; even the server rarely came in, usually just delivering dishes after orders were placed on the tablet.

Looking at the elegant grilled foie gras, cheese-baked crab, wagyu with black truffle, and tempura laid out before her, Zhu Wenshu felt the waffles sitting in her stomach — her “neglected first wife” — practically shouting that if she dared let all this new food in, they’d make her regret it tonight.

She barely touched her chopsticks for a long while, and when she met Ling Chen’s gaze, she had nothing to say for herself.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that…” Zhu Wenshu was trying to figure out how to explain when Ling Chen lowered his head and pulled out his phone.

A while later, the server slid the door open and brought in another seven or eight dishes.

Zhu Wenshu watched in astonishment as her barely touched food was cleared away, and once the server left, she quickly said, “Why are you ordering so much? It’ll go to waste if we can’t finish it, and this place isn’t cheap!”

“It’s fine.”

Ling Chen pushed a seafood chawanmushi toward Zhu Wenshu. “Try this.”

“…”

Sorry, waffles.

Zhu Wenshu picked up her spoon and took a bite — freshly caught abalone nestled in tender egg custard — and it nearly brought tears to her eyes from how good it was.

After a few more bites, she genuinely couldn’t force down any more and set down her chopsticks.

Ling Chen looked up at her again.

Seeing him reach for his phone again to order more, Zhu Wenshu quickly said, “Don’t waste any more, I’m just full!”

His finger paused over the screen, and after a moment he said, “Oh.”

“Did you two eat dinner already?”

Zhu Wenshu: “…No, I’m on a diet.”

Ling Chen’s gaze swept over her briefly, and though he said nothing, his expression made his thoughts plain.

Where exactly do you need to lose weight?

“I really have gained weight, it’s all just hidden.”

Zhu Wenshu pulled her coat tighter around herself. “You can only tell once the clothes come off.”

“…”

The moment she said it, Zhu Wenshu’s brow twitched.

What nonsense had she just said.

That sounded like — like she was implying something!

After an excruciatingly silent two seconds, Zhu Wenshu finally worked up the courage to sneak a glance at Ling Chen.

But he seemed to not have thought anything of it at all, head down, quietly eating.

Alright then.

Guess she was just the one with an overactive imagination — he hadn’t thought anything of it at all.

Meanwhile —

“Ling Chen.” Zhu Wenshu glanced toward the table’s edge and spoke up. “Ling Chen?”

He looked up.

“What?”

Zhu Wenshu: “Someone’s calling you.”

Ling Chen glanced over. “Oh.”

Once Ling Chen took his phone and stepped out, Zhu Wenshu braced herself against the tatami mat and let out a breath of relief, as if a great weight had lifted.

As a teacher, she really needed to think three times before speaking from now on!

Just as she was thinking this, her own phone rang too.

“Hey, what’s up?”

The caller was Zhong Ya, who skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point.

“What’s going on between you and Ling Chen?”

Zhu Wenshu instinctively glanced at the door. “Huh?”

“I just now put it together!”

Zhong Ya said. “The way you two were acting last night was not normal!”

“It’s just…” Zhu Wenshu said quietly, “a normal situation.”

“Normal my foot!”

Zhong Ya’s volume suddenly spiked. “I haven’t eaten pork, but I’ve seen a pig run — don’t tell me you’re really going to play dumb with me after all that?”

Zhu Wenshu: “It’s just a normal situation between a man and a woman… right?”

Zhong Ya: “…Hold on a second.”

Zhu Wenshu: “What?”

Zhong Ya: “I need to find a charging cable, spill everything.”

“No, don’t, I can’t really talk right now.” Zhu Wenshu said. “I’m out having dinner.”

“Oh, with who?”

Without waiting for Zhu Wenshu’s answer, Zhong Ya’s brain finally caught up.

“You two really are… you already had dinner together yesterday, isn’t this a bit much!”

“…”

Zhu Wenshu said, “Actually, between him and me… I don’t even know how it happened, it just sort of turned out this way.”

The moment she finished that sentence, Zhu Wenshu heard the sound of the sliding door opening and quickly hung up, then sent Zhong Ya a message.

[Zhu Wenshu]: He’s back, talk later.

[Zhong Ya]: What time are you home?

—Not sure, should be soon, I’ll call you when I get back.

Before she could finish typing and send it, a new message popped up on the other end.

[Zhong Ya]: Your girl’s worried about you.

[Zhu Wenshu]: …

While she was still typing, Ling Chen had already sat back down across from her.

Zhu Wenshu assumed he hadn’t heard her phone call, and was about to say something when he suddenly spoke up first. “Actually, it’s not that hard to figure out.”

Zhu Wenshu’s fingers froze; she looked up at him.

“I think,” —

Their eyes met under the light, and Ling Chen looked at her, her reflection captured in his pupils, “I’ve been pretty obvious about it.”

Maybe it was because her coat was wrapped too tightly, but Zhu Wenshu suddenly felt a fine layer of heat spreading across her entire body.

After a moment, she said quietly, “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Oh.”

Ling Chen tilted his head, resting his cheek on one hand, no longer looking at Zhu Wenshu. “But you’re blushing.” –

The gradual descent into late autumn, after being struck by a wave of cold air, suddenly gave way to early winter.

On Wednesday afternoon, as Zhu Wenshu led a group of bundled-up students out of school, she spotted Lu Zixi’s older brother coming to pick her up again, his eyes fixed intently on her, and her thoughts suddenly drifted back to that night.

How was that “obvious.”

Zhu Wenshu thought, now Lu Zixi’s brother — that was what “obvious” really looked like. Ling Chen might just be misreading the situation with her.

Well, he was a big star, after all, she supposed that made sense.

He probably only ever needed to crook a finger, usually.

Just then, Zhu Wenshu’s attention was caught by an elderly couple.

Each class had a designated pickup zone, and after several months, Zhu Wenshu had grown familiar with most of the parents’ faces. So when she noticed an unfamiliar elderly couple standing nearby, she couldn’t help glancing over a few extra times.

Like the other grandparents, they were anxiously scanning the crowd, except their gazes lacked any clear focus, sweeping over each child in line, lingering on every one of them for a moment.

Right as Ling Siyuan’s nanny walked over to collect him, the elderly couple suddenly rushed forward, hastily pushing past Zhu Wenshu, and seized Ling Siyuan’s small hand from the nanny, gripping it tightly as they bent down. “Oh, our little great-grandson, finally waited till you got out of school! Are you cold? Hungry? Come home and eat with great-grandpa and great-grandma, okay?”

Great-grandpa and great-grandma?

Zhu Wenshu looked at the nanny, who also looked utterly lost, but not wanting to be too rude, could only stand aside and ask, “You are…?”

The elderly couple looked the nanny up and down and said, full of energy, “We’re his great-grandma and great-grandpa, you—”

“I don’t know you!”

Ling Siyuan, having finally recovered from being manhandled, wrenched his hand free and hid behind the nanny. “Who are you?”

“Little Yuanyuan doesn’t remember us?”

The old woman suddenly broke into a smile again, hunching her back as she spoke, her elderly voice tinged with a note of pitiful sorrow that somehow made her sound rather pathetic, “When you were little I used to hold you — you peed a whole puddle on my bed once, and I made you meatballs, remember?”

The eight-year-old, frightened, flushed bright red and clung tightly to the nanny’s hand, shaking his head over and over.

“I don’t know you, I don’t know you.”

Seeing this, Zhu Wenshu stepped forward to block them and asked the elderly couple, “Hello, I’m his homeroom teacher, may I ask who you are?”

Hearing she was a teacher, the two softened their attitude somewhat and said with forced smiles, “This is our great-grandson, we’re here to pick him up from school.”

Zhu Wenshu, still full of suspicion and unable to make sense of it, said, “We’re required to release students only into the hands of their designated guardians. Let me just call his father—”

Just as she genuinely pulled out her phone, the couple hastily stopped her.

“Why call anyone, can’t we pick up our own great-grandson?”

“His father is Ling Xingyan, his uncle is Ling Chen, we’re Ling Chen’s own maternal grandparents, don’t believe us? Look!”

The two dug out a worn, creased photo from their bag; from being folded so many times, the already blurry image had deep crease lines running through it, making it even harder to make out.

Zhu Wenshu could only barely tell that the two elderly figures in the photo were probably the couple standing in front of her now. As for the young boy being held by a young woman, he looked to be only three or four years old — impossible to tell if it was really Ling Chen.

Seeing that Zhu Wenshu still looked doubtful, the two elderly people continued, “We really are Ling Chen’s grandparents, oh, why would we lie about something like this, you little thing. We treat his nephew like our own great-grandson too — we came specially to see him, to pick him up and take him for something good to eat.”

Zhu Wenshu handed the photo back and asked, “Do you know his home address?”

The two elderly people suddenly froze, exchanged a glance, and said, “Of course we know. He used to live on Baihua Street in Huiyang, his mother’s name is Zhou Ying, our own daughter, his father’s name is Ling Yuji, don’t believe us, go check.”

Even as they said this, their behavior remained thoroughly suspicious.

Zhu Wenshu frowned and pointed at Ling Siyuan. “I’m asking for his home address.”

Both of them went completely silent, glancing at Ling Siyuan, then at the nanny, stammering without managing to say anything more.

Right then, the nanny finished her phone call and said quietly to Zhu Wenshu, “Couldn’t get through, he’s on a flight today…”

The temperature had dropped sharply that day, the cold wind cutting at faces like a blade.

Zhu Wenshu called Ling Chen, but no one picked up. She glanced at Ling Siyuan, who was trembling — whether from fear or the cold, she couldn’t tell.

“Take him home first,” Zhu Wenshu told the nanny. “Keep a close eye on him, and keep trying to reach his father.”

“O-okay.”

“If you two—”

Before Zhu Wenshu could finish, the couple, seeing the nanny about to leave with Ling Siyuan, rushed forward and grabbed at them.

“What are you two doing!”

Zhu Wenshu’s raised voice drew the attention of other parents nearby, and soon a small crowd gathered, along with a security guard.

“If you keep this up I’m calling the police!”

At the words “calling the police,” the couple’s behavior noticeably reined itself in.

Muttering to each other, they moved off toward the other side of the road. Zhu Wenshu watched them for a moment, then, once she saw the nanny get Ling Siyuan into the car, felt somewhat relieved.

But not long after, she saw the elderly couple get into a taxi as well, heading in the same direction.

There was only one road leading out of the school, so she couldn’t be sure if they were actually following, but Zhu Wenshu still snapped a photo of the license plate before the taxi disappeared from view, then called the nanny again to tell her to stay alert. –

Ling Chen was woken by an urgent series of doorbell rings.

“Urgent” was really just his own perception of it.

He hadn’t slept all night, and had only gotten home to nap that afternoon; on top of that, the complex was currently renovating its outdoor swimming pool, an endless racket. Ling Chen had barely been asleep a few hours, and at this point any noise at all set him on edge.

After waiting a long while with no sign of the nanny answering the door, Ling Chen figured she must have taken Ling Siyuan out to play, so he threw off the covers and, thoroughly irritated, walked to the entryway.

Still groggy, his mind foggy, he assumed in his anger that it was Ling Xingyan again, arms too full of bags to unlock the door himself.

“Can’t you just set your stuff down and—”

The moment the door opened, the grogginess and irritation in Ling Chen’s eyes vanished at once, replaced by a still, dead calm.

“Ah Chen? It really is you, Ah Chen!”

The elderly couple’s astonishment wasn’t feigned — they’d originally only meant to find Ling Xingyan first, and go through him to reach Ling Chen, never expecting to skip that step entirely.

“How did you get in.”

Ling Chen’s tone was as cold as his expression, but the couple didn’t care. Eager to push their way into this large home, they found Ling Chen’s arm braced across the doorframe, leaving no opening.

“We…” The two exchanged another glance. “We told the security guard we were your grandparents, and they let us in.”

Ling Chen didn’t believe that explanation for a second.

Given the property fees at this complex, the security wouldn’t be that careless.

But he had no energy to dwell on that right now.

He kept his eyes lowered, gazing coldly at these two aged, gaunt figures, and felt the weight he’d carried in his chest for years finally settle into stillness.

In truth, Ling Chen had known for a few years now that his grandparents had been trying to reach him. But at their age, without some resourceful intermediary, they’d had virtually no way of stepping into his life.

Still, he’d known they wouldn’t give up. As long as he remained in the public eye, sooner or later they’d find their opening.

He just hadn’t expected that day to come this soon.

He turned. “Come in.”

The couple was startled again, not expecting Ling Chen to let them in so readily.

They’d originally planned that if he refused to acknowledge them, they’d make a scene right at his doorstep — a big star like Ling Chen couldn’t possibly not care about his public image.

Once inside, in front of Ling Chen, whatever bravado they’d shown at the school gate seemed to vanish; they shuffled in leaning on each other, eyes sweeping over the crystal chandelier, the marble dining table, the leather sofas.

“Your place is really big,” the grandmother said. “Much bigger than where you grew up.”

Ling Chen sat on the sofa without a word.

The grandfather pulled out a plastic bag from a pouch at his waist, unwrapping it with trembling hands.

“These are the marinated quail eggs you loved as a kid, your grandmother and I—”

“Say it.” Ling Chen cut him off. “Whatever it is.”

The grandfather suddenly fell silent, his thin lips pressed tight, dazed for a long moment before turning to tug at his wife’s sleeve.

The grandmother, still busy taking in the décor and noticing a full six doors down the hallway, turned back and said, “Your place could fit so many people — does Ling Xingyan and his son live here with you? Must be lively, not like our place, so lonely. Does your father live here too?”

“My father’s dead.”

The living room fell silent for a moment.

The couple’s expressions froze, exchanging a stammering look. “Oh… he passed… what a shame, didn’t even get to enjoy any of this with you.”

The grandfather continued, “How did it happen? Health problems? He was still young, what, forty-eight, forty-nine this year?”

Ling Chen looked at them and said nothing.

That gaze made the old couple shudder, feeling as if the man before them bore no resemblance at all to the little boy they remembered.

“I’m busy.” Outside, dusk had already deepened; Ling Chen raised his head in the last sliver of light. “If you have something to say, say it.”

The grandfather opened his mouth several times but never quite managed to say anything, reaching over to touch his wife’s leg instead.

“It’s like this… you remember your cousin, right? You two grew up practically like brothers, sharing pants, sleeping crammed together on one bed.” The grandmother rubbed her hands together, her aged voice tinged with a note of desolation that made her sound rather pitiable in this fading light. “He’s planning to get married next year. He’s already got Jiangcheng residency, it’s just the housing…”

She glanced at Ling Chen’s expression, and seeing nothing unusual, continued.

“You know how expensive housing is in Jiangcheng. Ordinary people like us could work our whole lives and never afford it. Now that you’ve got the means, we were hoping to borrow some money from you.”

Finished, the couple both looked at Ling Chen.

He lowered his head and suddenly let out a laugh.

Not the least bit surprised.

If anything, even more direct than he’d expected.

He actually found himself admiring his grandparents in a way, at times — people who’d grown up working the fields, yet who could make such an unhesitating choice between money and family.

Before Ling Chen turned four or five, his grandparents had actually treated him decently enough.

Although at first they had fiercely opposed their daughter Zhou Ying marrying Ling Chen’s father, who’d had nothing to his name, hoping instead she’d land a wealthy, prestigious son-in-law with her looks — but their daughter had threatened to die rather than give him up, and they’d had no choice but to relent.

In the early days of the marriage, they’d looked down on Ling Chen’s father, Ling Yuji, giving him no good face, even openly berating him in front of others.

But Ling Yuji had a gentle temperament and never held it against them.

Later, once Ling Chen was born, seeing they had a handsome grandson, the old couple’s attitude finally warmed a little.

But a few years later, a relative’s daughter married into wealth and flaunted it in front of them constantly, throwing the old couple’s sense of balance off again, and they began telling Ling Chen’s parents not to bother coming home for visits without bringing fine liquor and cigarettes — didn’t want to lose face in front of others.

None of that mattered much, though — a marriage was a matter between two people.

Ling Chen’s parents genuinely loved each other; even by the time their son turned ten, the two of them were still as affectionate as newlyweds.

One worked as a nurse at the clinic, the other as an accountant at the textile mill — not a wealthy life, but a peaceful and happy one.

Even the doctors at the clinic often said they envied Zhou Ying, how her husband came to pick her up from work every single day.

But even young couples in love had their arguments now and then.

One bright, clear morning, the two had bickered over something trivial and ignored each other all the way to work.

By evening, Ling Yuji, still sulking when he got home, hadn’t gone to pick up Zhou Ying.

And it was on that very day.

On her way home from work, Zhou Ying was hit by a car.

The tragedy struck on an otherwise ordinary day; aside from those closest to her, everyone else could only sigh over the pity of it.

As for Ling Chen’s grandparents — whether out of genuine grief for their daughter or the shattering of their long-held dreams — they wept and wailed, pointing fingers and cursing Ling Yuji, all the way through Zhou Ying’s funeral.

From then on, Ling Yuji, already a quiet and reserved man, grew even more withdrawn, rarely mentioning his late wife in front of others.

Only Ling Chen knew that his father tossed and turned through the nights that followed, unable to sleep.

Later, once the compensation from the driver responsible and the clinic’s condolence payment came through, the grandparents took it all, leaving not a single cent for father and son.

Ling Yuji never once went to demand it back.

He carried the guilt himself; letting them take it all was the only atonement he felt he could offer.

A year passed like this. Ling Yuji’s mental state grew increasingly erratic — sometimes forgetting to add salt while cooking, sometimes losing track of the date, once even waking Ling Chen up for school on a Saturday.

They had thought, at first, that time would heal the wound between father and son.

But sometimes time was no healer at all — sometimes it simply let a wound fester, quietly corroding everything within.

Then, on another scorching summer afternoon, the textile mill’s accounts came up short by a full twenty thousand yuan.

Layer by layer of investigation turned up nothing, and eventually suspicion fell entirely on the accountant.

Ling Yuji, unable to explain himself, unable to clear his name.

It felt just like the day Zhou Ying died all over again — a crowd of people pointing fingers at him, calling him a thief, calling him shameless, calling him filthy.

And then, all at once, Ling Yuji covered his head and crouched in a corner, sobbing, his face streaked with tears and snot, repeating over and over, “It’s my fault… it’s my fault… it’s my fault…”

Since the accountant himself had confessed, the matter was settled.

They took every last cent of savings the family had to cover the shortfall, then expelled the man they held responsible from the mill.

Only Ling Chen knew that afterward, his father kept muttering the same words, over and over.

“It’s my fault… all my fault… everything is my fault.”

To the window. To the wall. To the trash can. To his late wife’s portrait in the living room.

“It’s my fault…”

Within days, the whole neighborhood knew — the man in the Ling household had gone mad.

He wandered around all day muttering to himself, and by evening would rush to the clinic in disheveled clothes to crouch outside it, until the staff, exasperated, called the police on him several times.

And where were the grandparents during all this?

Ling Chen had gone to find them only once, during the hardest time of all.

But he hadn’t even gotten the door open.

He only remembered that as he left, either his grandmother or grandfather — or perhaps that cousin they’d raised practically as a brother to him — had thrown a gnawed corn cob out the window at him.

It felt as if it had struck him right on the head, shattering whatever last hope he’d had left for that family. –

Zhu Wenshu had been standing downstairs for over ten minutes.

She saw a light on upstairs; the compound’s grounds were nice enough that she wasn’t sure if she was overthinking things.

Just as she turned to leave, she saw the elderly couple she’d seen earlier at the school gate walk out of the lobby.

So they really were his relatives?

The old couple, not noticing Zhu Wenshu standing by the road, walked off cursing under their breath.

In the cold wind, Zhu Wenshu could only make out fragments — “ungrateful,” “heartless” — among the muttered curses.

She tightened her scarf and walked in.

The building’s entrance required a key card.

Just then, another resident happened to be leaving, so Zhu Wenshu didn’t bother with the buzzer.

In the elevator, she felt a little uneasy.

What if there really was some unpleasant scene up there — would it even be appropriate for her to show up now?

Still thinking it over, the elevator reached the floor.

Zhu Wenshu took a deep breath and, in keeping with the age-old habit of “well, I’ve already come this far,” pressed the doorbell.

No one answered the first time.

She pressed it a second time.

This time she heard some movement inside. But even after a long while, the door still didn’t open.

So she pressed it a third time.

Listening to the doorbell, she thought — if there was still no answer this time, she’d just go home and pretend none of this had happened.

The person inside seemed to sense her thought, because just as the third ring faded, the door suddenly opened.

Zhu Wenshu glanced at Ling Chen and, seeing him perfectly intact, instinctively looked past him into the apartment.

Seeing everything looked normal inside too, she finally turned her full attention back to Ling Chen.

He’d probably seen her through the video doorbell already, so he wasn’t surprised to see her there.

It was only that she felt something was off about him right now.

His whole body seemed wrapped in something — she wasn’t sure if it could even be called sorrow.

And he just stood there looking at her, saying nothing, not even a simple “why are you here.”

“Um… I called you both but no one picked up.”

Zhu Wenshu spoke up first. “I was a little worried—”

Before the name “Ling Siyuan” could leave her mouth, Ling Chen suddenly reached out and pulled her into his arms.

Just like last time, his scent and warmth swept over her, and Zhu Wenshu’s body went rigid in an instant.

The difference this time was that Ling Chen didn’t hold her quite as tightly, but buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hot breath washing over her skin in wave after wave.

He held her like that for a long while; by the time Zhu Wenshu finally came back to her senses in the haze, her limbs still felt as if they were floating in midair.

She felt like a puppet on strings, not even sure what had made her move slightly just now.

But that small motion made Ling Chen’s chin brush against her shoulder, and he said quietly, “Don’t push me away.”

Every string on her body suddenly pulled taut from every direction at once, and even in her extreme tension, Zhu Wenshu didn’t move.

“I…”

Her mouth, still somewhat capable of movement, finally managed a sentence after a long moment. “There seems to be someone outside.”

The moment she said it, the arm resting lightly against her side suddenly tightened.

Ling Chen pulled her further inside the doorway, and with his other hand, pushed the door shut behind them.

Bang.

The black door swung closed, shutting the apartment’s owner, Ling Xingyan, out along with it.