Chapter 18
Of all the days since Ming Huai’s return, Dudu was the most excited. Every day, he clung to Ming Huai, insisting on sleeping beside him. Ming Huai happily indulged him, knowing full well that Dudu wasn’t naturally a clingy child; this was simply his way of expressing affection.
At nine-thirty in the evening, Ming Huai and Dudu lay together in bed. The nights at this time of year weren’t particularly hot yet, and since the child was still small and prone to catching a chill, Ming Huai hadn’t turned on the air conditioner. Instead, he covered them both with just a single summer quilt.
As Ming Huai’s melodious voice faded, the story drew to a close, yet Dudu’s eyes remained wide open, brimming with energy.
Ming Huai set the storybook aside, sat up, and gazed at Dudu, whose eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. “Not sleepy yet?” he asked.
Dudu shook his head. “No, I’m not tired. I want to hear another story.”
When it came to bedtime, Ming Huai was a man of principle. Pointing to the wall clock, he said, “It’s already nine-thirty. We’ve already delayed bedtime by half an hour today. Now, you must sleep.”
Perhaps feeling he had been too stern earlier, Ming Huai soon softened his expression and spoke gently, “Be a good boy, close your eyes. It’s time to sleep.”
But Dudu, usually so obedient, did not comply. Instead, he rolled over on the bed, huffed and puffed as he sat up to face Ming Huai directly, his demeanor seeming somewhat timid. “Daddy…”
Ming Huai had never seen Dudu act this way; his own demeanor instantly turned serious. He pulled Dudu into his arms and asked with slight concern, “What’s wrong?”
Dudu fidgeted with his fingers before looking up with a怯生生的 gaze. He turned and wrapped his small arms around Ming Huai, whispering softly, “Daddy, does Dudu really have a mommy?”
Ming Huai’s heart jolted; in that instant, he didn’t know how to answer Dudu’s question. He had no leisure to ponder why his son would suddenly ask such a thing. Come to think of it, the reason wasn’t complicated: the child was only three years old. What could a three-year-old possibly understand? Whatever crossed his mind, he asked aloud; he simply couldn’t hide his thoughts.
Regarding the topic of “Mom,” Ming Huai had never avoided it. Back when Dudu was still very small, whenever he asked, a simple reply from Ming Huai—”We’ll see Mom again”—was enough to placate the child. Clearly, that wouldn’t work anymore.
Yet Ming Huai found himself unable to explain things clearly to Dudu. The situation was far too complicated; even he couldn’t sort it out himself, let alone convey it fully and coherently to a child.
“Why did Dudu suddenly ask about this?” Ming Huai asked.
Dudu blinked, fiddling with the buttons on Ming Huai’s pajamas, and answered obediently, “Grandma Chen put on ‘Peppa Pig’ for me. Peppa has a daddy pig, a mommy pig, and a little brother. But I only have a daddy. I want a mommy and a little brother too.”
Ming Huai was instantly choked up. He hadn’t expected that the question causing him such difficulty stemmed from a cartoon. He ruffled Dudu’s hair and said, “Dudu will have a mommy too; she’ll be back in a few days. Don’t worry, Daddy promises to bring Mommy back.”
“Really?” Joy filled Dudu’s eyes.
“Really,” Ming Huai nodded, making his promise.
“What about a little brother? I’d like a little sister too!”
Dudu’s face was brimming with anticipation, while Ming Huai wore an expression of utter helplessness. Their mother hadn’t even returned yet; how could there be a little brother or sister? Moreover, explaining this would be far more complicated, and besides, Ming Huai would absolutely never have the courage to explain the specific details to his son.
Finally, Ming Huai exhausted every trick in the book before lulling Dudu to sleep.
Once Dudu was asleep, Ming Huai picked up his phone to look up the animated series that had caused all the trouble. Consequently, his dreams that night were filled with the incessant sound of pigs oinking, a noise that persisted until he woke up.
The next morning, recalling last night’s dream, Ming Huai resolved to tell Aunt Chen to limit Dudu’s exposure to such cartoons; after all, what would they do if the boy started imitating pig sounds?
Although Ming Huai hadn’t been able to meet Ji Tingqian in recent days, having his contact information gave him a sense of security. Ming Huai adhered to one principle: “Even if I don’t appear before Ji Tingqian in person, my presence must never fade.”
Thus, with this mindset, Ming Huai carefully calculated the time difference every day, never missing a single “good morning,” “good afternoon,” or “good night.” He persisted without fail each day. Whenever Ji Tingqian saw his messages, he would surely reply, and sometimes the two could even exchange a few words.
Ming Huai was very satisfied with this state of affairs, especially upon learning that Ji Tingqian would soon return to S City; his heart finally settled completely.
In the afternoon, while Dudu was taking his nap and Aunt Chen was preparing pickles in the kitchen, the house remained quiet and still.
Ming Huai walked into the kitchen and called out, “Aunt Chen.”
“Hmm?” Aunt Chen set down what she was doing and turned to ask, “What’s wrong?”
Ming Huai smiled, his tone light as he said, “I’m going out to meet someone. I won’t be back for dinner tonight, just wanted to let you know.”
Aunt Chen nodded. “Alright, then take care.” It was probably the habitual remark every elder made when their juniors stepped out the door.
With that, Ming Huai left.
A white Bentley was parked downstairs, with a young woman sitting inside. She exuded a powerful, commanding presence, her makeup impeccable and her expression stern, her gaze sharp and piercing. Yet, the moment the window was tapped, her entire demeanor instantly softened.
Ji Peihan rolled down the window, a wide smile curving her lips as she urged eagerly, “Hurry up and get in.”
The side door opened, and Ming Huai settled into the passenger seat. Fastening his seatbelt, he flashed his dimples and called out, “Second Sister.”
Ji Peihan started the engine and chided playfully, “What’s with this ‘Second Sister’? You never reach out to me normally; I’m always the one who has to come find you.”
Ming Huai quickly pleaded for mercy, “I was wrong, I was wrong.”
“Good that you know it. From now on, send me a few more messages, and when I invite you out, just don’t keep turning me down,” Ji Peihan shot a glare at Ming Huai.
Their last meeting had been during the New Year; counting carefully, it had already been several months since Ming Huai and Ji Peihan last saw each other. The two had always been close, largely because Ji Peihan’s eldest brother was so stern that Ming Huai was afraid of him.
The car gradually made its way toward the outskirts, where a row of old-fashioned houses came into view. Both Ming Huai and Ji Peihan were regulars here. Ji Peihan handed the car keys to the doorman, and together with Ming Huai, she entered through the vermilion-lacquered main gate.
The courtyard was designed with meticulous attention to traditional Chinese aesthetics, featuring winding corridors, pavilions, towers, blooming flowers, and intricate stone carvings in abundance. As soon as the two entered, a young woman dressed in a cheongsam approached to guide them. Ji Peihan was acquainted with the owner of this establishment; thanks to this connection, she had a private room reserved exclusively for her here, offering absolute confidentiality.
The dishes had been ordered early in the day. After the waiter escorted them inside, he quietly withdrew, leaving only Ming Huai and her companion in the room.