Over at the Lu residence, Madam Lu, having just received the money from Lu Xiang, went to the market in high spirits. She made sure to buy Jiang Haoyan his favorite chicken drumsticks. Her youngest daughter had told her specifically to buy good food for the child.
Looking down at the bills in her hand, Madam Lu quietly slipped three of them into a separate pocket for safekeeping, leaving only a hundred yuan ([yuan — Chinese currency]) for groceries.
At the market, she picked out shrimp, fish, and crab—cheap leftovers that were still edible but far from fresh.
When lunch was ready, Lu Xiang saw the table filled with shrimp, crab, fish, and golden-fried chicken drumsticks. The fragrant aroma filled the air, and satisfaction spread across her face. Turning toward Jiang Haoyan, who was playing quietly with his toy car, she said gently, “Haohao, go wash your hands. It’s time to eat.”
Obediently, the little boy put down his toy and followed her.
Lu Xiang couldn’t help but feel a touch of fondness. This child was truly well-behaved—quiet, polite, never causing a fuss. If she really took him in, he’d be easy to raise and wouldn’t be a bother.
“It’s time to eat,” Madam Lu said briskly as she set out the dishes. “I cooked plenty today. Grandma’s dear little treasure, eat more.”
Jiang Haoyan nodded, climbed into his chair, and his big round eyes immediately landed on the plate of chicken drumsticks.
“Haohao, don’t be shy,” Lu Xiang said warmly, sitting beside him. “If there’s something you like, tell Teacher, and I’ll pick it for you.”
“Thank you, Teacher.” The boy’s voice was soft as he licked his lips and took a big bite of the drumstick.
Madam Lu, trying to get closer to the child, smiled kindly and kept putting food into his bowl. “My dear grandson, eat some shrimp and fish too. Grandma stir-fried them—they’re delicious.”
“Mom, why are the shrimp so pale?” Lu Xiang frowned slightly, glancing at the plate. “They don’t look fresh.”
“How could they not be fresh? When I bought them, they were still jumping around!” Madam Lu shot her daughter an irritated look. “You never liked shrimp—what would you know about their color?” She scooped more shrimp into Jiang Haoyan’s bowl and said cheerfully, “Here, your aunt doesn’t want any, so Grandma will give them all to you. Such a good boy, not wasting Grandma’s effort.”
The little boy looked down at the bowl full of shrimp, pouted, and silently began to eat.
After lunch, Jiang Haoyan tugged on Lu Xiang’s sleeve again. “Teacher Xiangxiang, can I see my mom’s photo?”
Lu Xiang froze for a second. She had thought he’d forgotten about it. Forcing a smile, she nodded. “Haohao, sit here a bit. Teacher will find a photo of your mom for you.”
In the kitchen, she pulled her mother aside. “Mom, do you still have a photo of my elder sister? I want to show it to the child.”
“No,” Madam Lu replied carelessly as she washed dishes. “We’ve moved so many times, everything got lost. Besides, back then I was angry with your sister for running off and leaving us. I threw all her things away.”
She glanced toward the living room and added, “That child’s easy to coax. Just tell him we can’t find the photo right now and that he can look for it next time he visits. That way he’ll come again, won’t he?”
Lu Xiang laughed and leaned playfully on her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, old people really are the smartest.”
After that, she went back to her room, pretending to look for a photo. In truth, she just wanted a nap. She had woken up early that morning to pick up Jiang Haoyan and was exhausted.
Passing through the living room, she saw the boy sitting quietly watching TV, his little hands folded on his lap. The sight made her heart soften.
Madam Lu finished washing the dishes, then felt the cash hidden in her pocket. A satisfied smile stretched across her face, deepening the wrinkles at her eyes. Hanging her apron on the wall, she said, “My good grandson, Grandma’s going to buy you some milk. Drinking milk will make you grow tall. Sit here and watch TV for a bit, and your aunt will bring you your mom’s photo later.”
In truth, she hadn’t been able to play mahjong ([a traditional Chinese tile game played for money or fun]) lately because she’d been short on cash. Now that she had some, she couldn’t resist heading out to play a few rounds.
“Okay,” Jiang Haoyan replied softly, nodding.
Lu Xiang went to rest, Madam Lu went out to play mahjong, and little Haohao was left alone in the quiet living room.
He grew bored quickly. Glancing at his backpack on the shoe cabinet, he thought of calling his mother. But as soon as he stood up, a sharp pain suddenly stabbed through his belly.
His little hands flew to his stomach.
It hurt—badly.
His small brows furrowed, and tears welled up in his eyes from the twisting pain. Trying hard not to cry, he pressed his chubby hands over his belly and took small, unsteady steps toward Lu Xiang’s room.
But before he could reach the door, he doubled over and vomited.
“Uu… uu…” The little boy stood trembling, staring at the mess on the floor, his face pale with fear. His belly hurt so much. Was he going to die? He wanted to go home—to find his father, to find his mother.
Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, he cried out in panic, “Teacher Xiangxiang! Haohao is sick!” Then, overwhelmed, he vomited again and burst into louder sobs.
In her room, Lu Xiang had just drifted off when the sound of crying reached her ears. She frowned, then suddenly recognized the child’s voice.
“Haohao?” She bolted up, slipping on her shoes and running out.
As soon as she turned the corner, the sight hit her—the floor was splattered with vomit, and the little boy was squatting behind it, clutching his stomach and crying pitifully.
“Ah—what happened?” She covered her nose from the smell and hurried over. “Haohao, don’t cry, what’s wrong?”
Between sobs, the boy looked up, his little face white as paper. “Teacher Xiangxiang, Haohao’s tummy hurts… and I threw up.”
His tears streamed as he whimpered, “Haohao is sick… wuwuwu…”
Lu Xiang crouched and touched his forehead—it wasn’t hot. “Where does it hurt?”
“My belly… it hurts so much…”
Her heart skipped. The child’s pain looked real, his little face drawn tight with suffering. “Be good, can you stand up? Teacher will take you to the hospital.”
She turned to call her mother—but there was no one home. Panic rose in her chest as she dialed her phone.
Madam Lu had just won two rounds when her phone rang. She picked it up, annoyed, only to hear her daughter’s anxious voice.
“Mom, Haohao is vomiting and his stomach hurts! I’m taking him to the hospital. Why did you leave him alone and go play mahjong?”
Madam Lu froze. “What? He’s vomiting? Is it serious?”
“I don’t know! Maybe it’s food poisoning—maybe the food wasn’t fresh. I’m leaving now, come quickly!”
The line went dead.
Madam Lu sat there in shock. Food poisoning? Her mind flashed to the shrimp and crab she’d bought earlier. Could that have been it?
But she’d eaten some too. Why was the child sick and she was fine? Was the boy really that delicate?
Later that evening, Su Yue returned from the hospital with a small jar of scar-removing ointment. Sitting beside Jiang Ci, she carefully began to apply it to his injured hands.
The ointment was white and faintly fragrant. After washing her hands, Su Yue squeezed out a bit and gently rubbed it over his skin—over every finger, every scar, the palm and back of his hand alike.
“Does it hurt?” she asked softly.
Jiang Ci’s eyes lifted lazily. Her touch was feather-light—more ticklish than painful.
Su Yue worked slowly, making sure the ointment covered evenly. She rested his treated hand lightly on her thigh to let it dry, then moved to the other. “I wonder how little Haohao’s doing at his teacher’s house,” she murmured.
Uncle Zhang had already investigated the Lu family’s living conditions—they weren’t good. But since they were relatives, if they treated the boy kindly, Su Yue and Jiang Ci wouldn’t mind offering help.
“The little troublemaker’s gone, and my ears are finally at peace,” Jiang Ci drawled, his lips curving faintly as her fingertips brushed his skin.
“Don’t say that,” Su Yue said with a small frown. “He’s such a good boy—never noisy or spoiled.”
Jiang Ci only smiled faintly, saying nothing more. When she finished applying the ointment, he said, “Go get the box from the cabinet.”
Curious, Su Yue stood and opened the cabinet. Inside sat a dark blue box tied with a delicate bow. Her eyes brightened. “What’s this? A birthday present for me?”
Jiang Ci had mentioned her birthday before—it was still more than a month away.
He raised a brow. “Do you think it’s a birthday gift?”
“Then… can I open it?” she asked eagerly.
“Go ahead.”
Su Yue untied the bow, only to find the box filled with colorful ribbons. “So many ribbons—all for me?” she asked, amused, lifting one in soft yellow silk.
Jiang Ci smirked. “Mm. All for you. Use them.”
She laughed quietly. “Straight men really do have a unique sense of gifts,” she teased. “Thank you, though.”
Picking up a pink ribbon, she tied it behind her hair, forming a small bow. “Does it look nice?”
Her fair face glowed softly beneath the pink, like a delicate flower in bloom.
Jiang Ci’s eyes darkened. “Mm. It looks good. Seems you like pink ribbons.”
“Other colors are nice too,” she said lightly.
His voice lowered, deep and magnetic. “As long as you like it.”
Just as Su Yue playfully tied a ribbon around his wrist, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen—it was Jiang Haoyan.
The moment she answered, Lu Xiang’s panicked voice came through the line. “Mrs. Jiang! Haohao’s in the hospital!”
Su Yue froze. The smile faded instantly from her lips, and her heart went cold.