The two of them kept talking, and it was only when someone knocked on Xie Yichen’s door that Ning Sui noticed it was almost eleven o’clock — they’d been on the phone for over an hour without realizing it.

Xie Yichen got up to answer the door: “That’s probably my aunt.”

“Oh.” Ning Sui noticed he was holding his phone and said on instinct: “Don’t take me out there though.”

Xie Yichen raised an eyebrow, and the laugh that shook through his chest came through clearly: “What?”

Ning Sui: “……”

She scrambled upright, her voice going quieter: “No, I mean — looking like this when I meet your aunt — isn’t that a bit odd?”

She was in a little spaghetti-strap sleep dress, sitting on the bed, hugging a stuffed animal.

Meeting a relative looking like this was perhaps a little too casual.

Ning Sui burrowed into the blankets and cocooned herself, and Xie Yichen watched her, the smile on his lips not quite going anywhere: “It’s fine — I won’t let her see you. And I’ve got my earphones in.”

Ning Sui let out a breath of relief.

He set the phone on the side table. Through the speaker came Qin Shufen’s voice: “Yichen — are you asleep yet?”

“Not yet.”

The sound of a door opening and closing. The two of them spoke briefly — it seemed to be about Tengyun’s affairs: in the wake of everything that had happened, the process of settling the fallout, including some guidance on the legal front, had been handled through connections Qin Shufen had called in — a lawyer friend she knew.

When they finished, Qin Shufen said: “Alright — just wanted to update you. As for your cousin’s side, we won’t be getting more involved. We’re leaving it in your hands.”

Xie Yichen: “Understood.”

Having said what she came to say, Qin Shufen shifted into her natural mode: “You’ve been shut up in your room all evening, not coming out to watch TV with us. What are you up to?”

Xie Yichen: “On the phone with my girlfriend.”

Qin Shufen: “Ah — am I interrupting you two?”

Ning Sui was listening quietly, still not quite following, and then — before she could brace herself — heard him say, with complete and utter ease: “A little bit, yes.”

“You’ve been together for three years now, haven’t you?” Qin Shufen made a sound of genuine wonder. “The new year’s almost here — when are you going to bring her home to meet us?”

Xie Yichen said: “I’ll have to go back and talk to her about that.”

“Fair enough. When she’s ready, bring her by.” Qin Shufen’s laugh was bright and warm. She shook her head: “I’m genuinely so curious — what kind of girl is she, to be this clever and beautiful and perceptive and kind and cosmically, unfathomably adorable?”

Ning Sui, burrowed under the blankets, made herself as small as possible.

Just — what exactly had he been telling his aunt and uncle about her?!

Someone save her.

Xie Yichen closed the door again. When he looked back at the screen, the person on the other end had wrapped herself so thoroughly in blankets that only a pair of peach-blossom eyes peeked out from the top, along with the soft pink of two flushed ears beneath her hair.

Something shifted quietly in his expression: “What are you doing?”

Ning Sui refused to come out. Her voice came out slightly muffled: “You’re going to sleep now, right?”

Every time she got embarrassed, she tried to end the call. Xie Yichen saw right through it, but said nothing: “Are you tired?”

Ning Sui, slow and careful: “A little, I think.”

They’d see each other again tomorrow anyway — he was perfectly at ease: “Alright then. Sleep.”

“Then — you hang up first.”

“You hang up.”

“You hang up.”

“I’m not hanging up.”

Ning Sui: “Hang up and then I’ll hang up.”

This could go on indefinitely.

“Ning Coconut, something about that sentence doesn’t quite add up.” Both of them were looking at each other with unashamed softness. Xie Yichen raised an eyebrow, something difficult to name running just beneath the surface of his voice: “Are we going to sleep or not? Because if not, I’ll come find you right now.”

Ning Sui finally put the phone down.

When she slipped out of her room a little while later, the main light in the living area was already off. Everything on the table had been put away and wiped clean. She’d been heading for the bathroom in the master bedroom, but on her way past the couch, she nearly tripped over something.

She looked down — and found Ning Deyan sprawled across the sofa in a full, four-limbed sprawl, his snoring rising and falling in waves. Deeply, unshakeably asleep.

Xia Fanghui must still be in the bath — she’d probably just finished helping Ning Yue with homework and hadn’t had a free moment. The master bedroom light was on.

Ning Sui’s gaze lingered there. She moved toward it without quite deciding to.

She had only taken a few steps inside when she heard Fangfang humming cheerfully in the bathroom — a tune that suggested she was in a genuinely good mood. The water had stopped; it sounded like she was almost done.

Ning Sui didn’t even think about it: “Mom, I need to grab a toothbrush——”

Xia Fanghui’s reflexes kicked in immediately, and she snatched the nearest towel to wrap around herself: “Wait — don’t come in!”

But it was a fraction of a second too late.

Under the bright bathroom light, Ning Sui caught a glimpse — just a flash — of the brownish-red wig Xia Fanghui hadn’t had time to hide, and the long scar crossing her chest before the towel covered it.

Ning Sui hadn’t had time to process it before Xia Fanghui turned quickly away, saying nothing, and dressed herself in her bra and pajamas with efficient, practiced movements.

Ning Sui’s gaze drifted blankly to the side, but something deep in her chest was beating so hard it ached. Her throat felt like it was being pressed shut, and not a single word would come: “Mom, you——”

Xia Fanghui took a long, slow breath, and after a moment, turned to face her.

Mother and daughter stood with a space between them, looking at each other, both their eyes full of words neither could quite say.

Ning Sui’s vision blurred rapidly. The tears came all at once, uncontrollable, sliding down her face one after another as though a thread had snapped — and she couldn’t stop them, couldn’t hold them back, and finally let out a broken sound.

Xia Fanghui stepped forward quickly and gathered her in, holding her close, her voice soft and steady: “Okay, it’s okay, sweetheart — Mom is fine. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

Ning Sui’s eyes were red at the corners. Her voice came out in pieces: “……When did this happen?”

“A long time ago — when you were in your first year of university.” Xia Fanghui kept her voice low. “But it wasn’t cancer — just a tumor. At the time they weren’t sure if it was malignant. The doctor was worried about it spreading, so they recommended surgery to remove it entirely, to be safe. It turned out, thankfully, to be benign.”

Ning Sui went very still, then gradually remembered.

There had been a period during her first year when Xia Fanghui had seemed consistently worn down — less focused on managing her, a little looser about everything. When asked, she’d said nothing. When Ning Sui came home for the holidays, Fangfang had a new hairstyle, and at the time something had struck Ning Sui as slightly off — but she hadn’t given it much thought.

Now she understood. During that stretch of time, Xia Fanghui had barely had any hair left. She and Ning Deyan had been quietly making trip after trip to the city hospital, consulting every specialist they could find — and all the while she had held herself together on the surface, not letting Ning Sui or Ning Yue see even a crack of it.

The tears kept coming. They soaked through to Xia Fanghui’s collar: “——Mom, why didn’t you tell me?”

A soft exhale drifted down from above her head, and a voice rough with emotion said: “You silly girl…”

“How was I supposed to tell you? You know what you’re like.”

The two of them held each other tightly, tears mingling into something scalding and inseparable. Xia Fanghui patted her back slowly, gently: “Don’t cry anymore, sweetheart. Your eyes will swell.”

She kept her voice deliberately light: “Mom is perfectly fine now. I go in for regular check-ups every few months. The doctor says as long as I keep my mood up, there’s nothing to worry about…”

Ning Sui pressed further into her and refused to move, sniffling steadily.

Xia Fanghui stroked her hair, and after a long silence, began to speak quietly: “Mom is very healthy now. And your father never once treated me differently — he kept encouraging me through all of it, treating me just like before, like there was nothing wrong. So I felt like I wasn’t really sick — like none of this was a big deal. It gave me such a strong sense of certainty that no matter what happens, this family will always face it together. That we will always be each other’s greatest strength.”

Her tone was easy, almost offhanded. But the sharp sting at the tip of Ning Sui’s nose was impossible to hold back.

This whole time — her mother had been the strongest one of all.

Generous and warmhearted, full of a particular courage. Life hadn’t been gentle with her — but she had charged at it every single day, fought to shield her family with everything she had, pushed through whatever stood in her way.

“Actually, Mom had already been told about a nodule in her chest years earlier — she just didn’t pay much attention to it at first. Then later she found out your grandmother had had one too, and started to wonder if it might be hereditary.”

“I know. You were always upset that Mom was so insistent on having you go through that procedure. You felt like it left a scar and you didn’t like it. You even cried about it in private.”

“But what you didn’t know was that Mom was genuinely terrified of that one-in-ten-thousand chance finding its way to you.”

Xia Fanghui paused, then said quietly, with a kind of peace: “When I was told about the tumor, my first reaction was actually relief. Because I thought: the decision I made back then — insisting on that surgery for you — that was right. Whether you hated me for it, whether you didn’t understand — seeing you healthy and whole now, I have no regrets.”

“At least my daughter doesn’t have to go through what I went through.”

Xia Fanghui had a kind of remarkable, particular power.

No matter what happened, no matter when — she always made Ning Sui feel that the sky would not fall.

No matter how hard things got out in the world, there was always home to come back to. Always someone willing to walk through fire for her. Always someone whose arms would open wide and hold her, and say: I love you always, and you will always be your parents’ child.

Something like this — it wasn’t that big a deal, really. In the face of a life that could be brutal, Xia Fanghui had used love to raise her and Ning Yue inside something like a fairy-tale shelter.

The two of them held onto each other, both their faces wet. Xia Fanghui dabbed at her tears — clumsily, making more of a mess of it — until Ning Sui’s cheeks were red from the rubbing. She’d barely been coaxed into quiet when she let out a fresh, involuntary sob.

Xia Fanghui sniffled and asked: “Is your father still in the living room? Is he asleep?”

Ning Sui knew instantly what she was thinking. She hiccupped and said: “Sleeping like a log. Probably can’t be woken up. What about Ning Yue?”

“I took away his phone and stayed until he fell asleep.”

They looked at each other — both faces streaked with tears, both managing to laugh through them.

With each other, they both became a little like children.

There was a line from that famous film — how did it go? Life really is a box of chocolates. You never know which piece you’re going to get. So even when things go sideways, even when the road bends and dips in unexpected ways, the love you hold onto steadily still gives you the most extraordinary sense of happiness.

It took a long while before both of them managed to collect themselves.

When their breathing had settled, they tiptoed out to the living area together with a small flashlight.

Ning Deyan was still asleep on the couch — though somehow, in the time since, he’d rearranged himself from his earlier precarious sprawl into a much more orderly position. He slept there peacefully now. Xia Fanghui picked up a thin blanket and draped it gently over him.

Then she padded over to ease open Ning Yue’s door and check on him.

Satisfied that Ning Yue was soundly asleep, Xia Fanghui and Ning Sui went back together to the master bedroom, and lay down side by side. The emotions of the night were still lingering, and sleep didn’t come easily. The two of them lay there together and talked — the kind of talk that only comes out in the quiet, when you’re finally close enough to say what you really mean.

They’d never been much for physical affection — hugging, touching — so it wasn’t really Ning Sui’s fault for not noticing sooner that something about Xia Fanghui was different than before. But now, here with her, she was acutely aware of what had been missing — that hollow, tender ache that came whenever she brushed up against the thought of it. She kept wanting to cry.

Such a long scar. The surgery must have hurt so much.

And the whole time it was happening, there had only been her father by her side. He had his own full, demanding work, and she and Ning Yue were both gone. It was almost impossible to imagine how Fangfang had carried it all alone, quietly, through every day of that.

Xia Fanghui felt the shift in her, and gently patted her: “Don’t be sad, Little Coconut.”

Ning Sui said quietly: “Mm.”

Xia Fanghui: “Honestly — Mom has always felt very fortunate.”

Ning Sui gave a soft hum.

Xia Fanghui’s gaze drifted, and she stroked her hair with a slow, thoughtful hand: “Think about it — growing up, even though times were tight and things weren’t easy with your grandmother, I still got to come to a place like Huai’an, throw myself into building something, make a real life with my own two hands. I found a good partner who truly knows my heart. And along the way, I came to know some genuinely like-minded people — people I could count on wherever I went.”

She paused: “And most of all — I have two children like you. The four of us working together, building this small, happy home of ours.”

Ning Sui blinked hard, fighting off tears, pressing them back — and then heard her say with a quiet laugh: “Mom is truly so glad — my treasure has grown up into such a beautiful, capable, radiant young woman. And she’s found a young man who cares for her so very, very deeply.”

Ning Sui pressed her face into her mother’s chest: “Mm.”

“So, Mom is very content.”

Ning Sui had become something like a vessel of tears tonight — they seemed to appear on her own without warning, sliding silently down her cheeks. She wasn’t making any sound. She’d just look down and find her face wet again.

Xia Fanghui sighed fondly and reached for two sheets of tissue, cradling her face and gently wiping — only to smear things further, until Ning Sui’s cheeks were thoroughly red. She’d barely been soothed when another quiet sob broke free.

“Is your father still in the living room? Did he fall asleep?”

Ning Sui said, voice thick: “Sleeping like a pig. Probably couldn’t wake him if we tried. What about Ning Yue?”

“I took his phone and stayed until he was out.”

They looked at each other — tearstained faces, both of them somehow smiling.

Like they were both a little bit children, in the other one’s eyes.

There was that line from the famous film — about life being a box of chocolates, how you never know what you’re going to get. And yet, even through all the stumbles and the unexpected turns, you can still feel, through a love that stays solid and sure, the most profound happiness imaginable.

After a long while, they finally put themselves back together.

Once everything had settled, they tip-toed out to the living area with a small flashlight.

Ning Deyan was still on the couch — though somehow in the interim, he’d shifted from his earlier sprawl into a much tidier position and was sleeping quite properly. Xia Fanghui took a thin blanket and spread it over him.

Then she went to ease open Ning Yue’s door, quietly, and looked in.

Once she’d confirmed he was fast asleep, Xia Fanghui and Ning Sui returned together to the master bedroom and lay down side by side. That night’s emotions were still stirring quietly, and sleep kept its distance. They lay there wrapped in the same blankets, talking in soft voices — about the things you only say when it’s late, and close, and the day has finally let you breathe.

They so rarely embraced like this, so it was hardly Ning Sui’s fault for not noticing sooner that anything about Xia Fanghui had been different. Even now, the hollow ache of it wouldn’t quite leave — every time she let herself touch the thought of it, something stung behind her eyes, and she felt an overwhelming tenderness toward her.

That long scar. How much it must have hurt.

And throughout all of it, only her father beside her — a man with his own full workload — while she and Ning Yue were both far away. It was hard to fathom how Fangfang had silently endured it all, day after day.

Xia Fanghui sensed her mood and gently patted her: “Don’t be sad, Little Coconut.”

Ning Sui: “Mm.”

Xia Fanghui: “Mom has always felt very fortunate, truly.”

Another quiet hum.

Xia Fanghui’s gaze went somewhere distant, and she stroked her hair in a slow, unhurried way: “Think about it. Growing up, even though life was tight with your grandmother, I still managed to find my way to a place like Huai’an. I threw myself into building something here, made something of myself through my own effort. I found a partner who really, truly understands me. And I’ve been lucky enough to meet people — true friends, people I can rely on no matter where I am.”

She paused: “And most of all — I have children like you. All four of us, working together, making this little home of ours.”

Ning Sui’s lashes were damp, her blinks deliberate as she tried to hold the tears back — and then heard her say with a quiet laugh: “Mom is just so happy. My precious girl has grown up into someone so beautiful and capable and wonderful. And she’s found a young man who cares for her so deeply, so completely.”

Ning Sui pressed her face into her mother’s side: “Mm.”

“So Mom is very, very content.”

Ning Sui had become something of a vessel for tears tonight — they surfaced without warning and slipped down her cheeks in silence. She wasn’t crying aloud. She’d simply feel the dampness and realize her face was wet again.

Xia Fanghui let out a soft sigh and reached for two tissues, cradling her face and dabbing at the tears — only to smear them further, leaving her cheeks quite pink and rosy. Just when she’d almost been soothed, another small sob came loose.

Xia Fanghui laughed gently as she wiped at her own eyes: “Is your dad still out in the living room? Asleep?”

Ning Sui sniffled: “Sleeping like a pig. I doubt we could shake him awake. And Ning Yue?”

“Took away his phone and sat with him until he was out.”

They looked at each other — faces still a little wet, both of them smiling at the same time.

As though in each other’s arms, they were both still a little bit children.

It’s what they say in that famous film, isn’t it? Life really is a box of chocolates — you never know what you’ll find when you open it. So even when the path gets harder than expected, even when things come at you sideways, a love that is real and steady and sure can still make you feel — in the deepest way — that you are lucky.

After a long, long while, they finally gathered themselves.

Once calm had settled back over them, they tiptoed out together with a small flashlight.

Ning Deyan was still asleep on the couch — though somehow he’d rearranged himself from his earlier sprawl into a neat, orderly position. Xia Fanghui took a thin blanket and laid it gently across him.

Then she padded over to ease open Ning Yue’s door and look in.

Once she’d confirmed that Ning Yue was sound asleep, Xia Fanghui and Ning Sui slipped back into the master bedroom and lay down together. The emotions of the evening were still softly present, and sleep didn’t come right away. They lay there curled beneath the same blanket, speaking quietly — saying the things that can only be said when it’s late, and still, and the day has at last let you breathe.

“Finding the one you want to spend your life with on your very first love — that’s truly rare and precious. Little Coconut, treasure the luck you have. Just like Mom — I’ve always treasured mine.”

“I will.”

Huai’an’s night deepened and settled, and then slowly began to lift again. Their voices grew softer, drifting into murmurs, warm and drowsy as sleep finally found its way to them.

But the small nightlight stayed on — steady and bright.

“Little Coconut — go out and make something of it.

I believe in you, always — that your future will be clear and full and kind, that you’ll set sail for wider waters, and find a life that is vivid and free and overflowing.

And if you ever miss home, you know — whenever you need us, no matter where you are or what time it is, just look back.

We will always be here.”