Chapter 025
Ever since Ming Huai brought up the matter, Aunt Chen had worn an expression of hesitation, unable to speak freely with Dudu present. But as bedtime approached for Ming Huai, Aunt Chen could no longer hold back. She called out to him, and Ming Huai, as if sensing her turmoil, waited calmly for her question.
“Xiao Huai,” Aunt Chen said, her face twisted with conflict, “may I ask about what’s happened between you and Mr. Ji?”
“Go ahead,” Ming Huai replied with a smile. Internally, he began arranging his words, considering how best to explain things without shocking Aunt Chen too much.
“What happened between you and Mr. Ji over these past few years? You were so wonderful together back then, how could…” Aunt Chen gritted her teeth before continuing, “how could a single car accident change everything like this?” Her voice gradually took on a note of grievance. “Mr. Ji surely knew your situation. Didn’t he adore Dudu back then? How could he stay away for so long without even coming to see him once?”
Perhaps unaware of the full truth, Ji Tingqian had nearly been branded a heartless man in Aunt Chen’s eyes—or perhaps, he already had been.
Aunt Chen was brought on as a special confidante when Ming Huai was over seven months pregnant. Back when the couple was so deeply in love, the old woman would watch them spend their days in sweet harmony, her heart brimming with joy, often remarking just how wonderful their relationship truly was.
A man giving birth was nothing short of shocking to the world, yet Ji Tingqian had never shown even a hint of surprise from the very beginning. All he felt was endless worry. For a time, he couldn’t sleep at night. During the period leading up to Ming Huai’s delivery, Aunt Chen more than once caught Ji Tingqian smoking on the balcony, his brows deeply furrowed, his eyes clouded with an anguish that refused to fade.
Ming Huai looked at Aunt Chen, his expression calm, his voice steady as he uttered a simple, clear sentence: “He lost his memory after the car accident.”
Aunt Chen’s eyes widened abruptly, her face a mask of disbelief. Suddenly, everything made sense: Ji Tingqian’s distant demeanor upon seeing her, his years of no contact with Ming Huai, and the complete absence of any paternal instinct when he looked at Dudu.
“But… this…” Aunt Chen was older and had witnessed many things in her life, yet she had never encountered anything like this. For a moment, she was utterly at a loss for words. It took her a long while to find her voice again. “Does Mr. Ji know about his past now?”
Ming Huai shook his head, a hint of sorrow glimmering in his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Then… then why haven’t you told Mr. Ji?!” Aunt Chen grew increasingly perplexed. Being older, she tended to see through matters more clearly and could immediately pinpoint the crux of the issue.
Ming Huai fell silent, his lips parting as if to speak, yet no words emerged. Slowly, he bowed his head, propping his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands, as though deeply pondering the question.
Why not simply reveal the truth to Ji Tingqian? In the past, his parents had hidden Ji Tingqian from him, leaving him no choice but to remain silent. But what about now? Ji Tingqian stood right before him; they had already established private contact. Indeed, their current situation was itself a concession made by his parents. Yet still, he had not divulged even a shred of the truth.
Auntie Chen, seeing that he did not wish to speak, asked no further. She rose, patted Ming Huai’s shoulder, and sighed softly before offering gentle comfort: “Xiao Huai, things will get better eventually.”
That night, Ming Huai once again failed to sleep well. He wondered why he hadn’t told the truth, though deep down he already knew the answer: it was a mix of unwillingness to let go and overwhelming guilt.
Ming Huai could have easily revealed the truth to Ji Tingqian, for it was simply fact. He possessed countless pieces of evidence; indeed, one could say Dudu himself was the greatest proof of all. Ji Tingqian, being so responsible, would surely strive to treat both him and Dudu well, earnestly playing the roles of lover and father.
But would there be love within any of that? Ming Huai had once pondered this, and his conclusion was clear: no, there would not.
To him and to the child, each other was merely a past he knew nothing about. No matter how deeply they had once loved, the other remained completely unaware. Perhaps when Ming Huai spoke of it, Ji Tingqian would be nothing more than a detached observer, yet clumsily burdened with the responsibility of that forgotten past.
But this was precisely the kind of burden Ming Huai did not want.
Facing day after day a Ji Tingqian who neither loved nor remembered him, yet still played the role of a lover, Ming Huai felt he would surely break down.
And yet, guilt gnawed at him. He still remembered clearly how Ji Tingqian had met with his accident—it remained Ming Huai’s deepest nightmare.
The reason behind Ji Tingqian’s accident back then remains a scar deep in Ming Huai’s heart—a nightmare she cannot escape, and a guilt too heavy for words.