Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The days flew by in a blur of activity. During this time, Xu Meng was occupied with both reviewing her studies and selling watermelons.

Except during business hours, Feng Yanwen rarely interrupted Xu Meng. So in the mornings, she could study English for over an hour before setting up the stall. After returning from the train station in the afternoon, she still had four or five hours left to review.

Perhaps due to the advantage of being reborn, Xu Meng found her memory had improved significantly, and her comprehension skills were rapidly advancing. Problems that once stumped her now made perfect sense, and even Feng Yanwen was amazed at her progress.

To keep up with her daughter’s study pace, Feng Yanwen always followed along with whatever Xu Meng was learning. Even now, she made sure Xu Meng didn’t slack off.

Business picked up in mid-August—partly because more tourists were coming to the capital city, and partly because many parents were bringing their children there for school. Sometimes families would come one after another to buy watermelons, and Xu Meng could barely keep up with slicing them. She roped in Liu Jin and the others to help, paying them two yuan a day to run errands—taking out trash, refilling water, or fetching supplies. Their best day saw them sell twenty watermelons and five or six hundred maps. Combined with the income from the kids running around selling maps, they cleared over a hundred yuan in profit.

Even Liu Jin and the others made a small fortune.

By the end of the day, they earned over ten yuan from selling maps, and Xu Meng even gave them an extra two yuan as a bonus.

Even the little one pitched in. Of course, he didn’t actually do much work, but just staying out of trouble was a big help to his older brothers.

With the money they earned, the three boys, following Xu Meng’s suggestion, each bought two new sets of clothes and a new pair of rubber shoes. Before school started, they spruced themselves up, and they were eating better than ever. Under the neighbors’ watchful eyes, Liu Jin and his brothers had changed almost beyond recognition in the past month.

They were cleaner now, and their place no longer looked like a pigsty when visitors dropped by.

Most miraculously, they were no longer as unruly as before—back then, they wouldn’t even listen to Sister Liu when they acted up. Now, they were as well-behaved as lambs.

Sister Liu couldn’t help but praise the mother and daughter outside: “Since Xiao Feng moved in, I’ve seen Liu Jin and the others start to behave.”

Business was booming, but Xu Meng knew it couldn’t last.

Sure enough, one day in late August, Zhang Xiufen arrived with another full cart of watermelons and said, “I’ve run out of my own crop. These came from other villagers. This late in the season, watermelons often go pithy, but I checked every single one—they’re all good. Store them somewhere cool. They’ll keep for a few days. After this, I won’t be coming anymore.” She smiled as she spoke.

She’d done well for herself this year.

In previous years, even if she grew plenty, not all would sell. But this year, nearly all her melons went, and she helped relatives and friends sell theirs too.

She also handed over a bag of vegetables: “These chili peppers are for you. The garden’s running low right now, so after these, it’s time to plant greens. Oh, and here are the seeds your mom wanted.”

Knowing that the mother and daughter hadn’t been cooking much lately, Zhang Xiufen often brought them vegetables—mostly cucumbers, tomatoes, and corn—as snacks. The homegrown cucumbers were crisp, sweet, and downright addictive.

Xu Meng took them gratefully, thanking Zhang Xiufen before cheerfully saying, “Auntie Zhang, why don’t you leave us your phone number? If there’s any other opportunity later, we can team up.”

Zhang Xiufen smacked her forehead. “Oh right! I almost forgot. You can call me anytime—even just to chat.” She scribbled down her number for them.

After chatting a while longer, Zhang Xiufen pedaled her tricycle away.

The morning sun threw Zhang Xiufen’s figure into sharp relief as she left, and it suddenly struck Xu Meng that she and Feng Yanwen were about the same age. But years of toil had weathered her, leaving her skin leathery and her face lined.

As soon as she left, Feng Yanwen returned.

Upon hearing that Zhang Xiufen had delivered the last batch of watermelons, Feng Yanwen sighed. They’d been so busy she’d nearly forgotten—watermelon season was over.

It seemed that after selling these, they could take a proper break.

Still, Feng Yanwen was in high spirits. She’d crunched the numbers the night before—in just over a month, the two of them had made a net profit of over three thousand yuan from selling watermelons alone. After deducting moving costs, equipment purchases, and daily expenses, they still had three thousand yuan saved!

Three thousand yuan—what a staggering amount.

That was equivalent to her entire annual salary before. But who could save their entire salary?

In the 1980s, as material supplies improved, people’s desire to spend surged. Yet despite stable incomes, many working-class families struggled to save. But she and Mengmeng had managed to save three thousand yuan in just over a month. Feng Yanwen had never felt so satisfied. Early that morning, she had gone out to buy breakfast.

"Soup dumplings and soy milk, all your favorites." As soon as Feng Yanwen opened the lid of the food container, Xu Meng snatched one with her fingers. Feng Yanwen frowned at her: "Look at you—so eager! Just finished hauling watermelons and already grabbing food with your hands. Still acting like a child?"

Back then, plastic bags weren't common yet, so people had to bring their own containers when buying breakfast outside.

The soy milk was kept in an insulated food jar.

Xu Meng playfully stuck out her tongue and obediently went to wash her hands under the faucet.

A small bucket sat beneath the tap to collect the used water, which would be poured into the vegetable basin once full. Xu Meng noticed that the spring onions and chives they had planted earlier seemed to be thriving. Remembering the packet of seeds Zhang Xiufen had given them, she curiously asked what kind of vegetables they were.

"Shanghai greens," Feng Yanwen replied. "You hate Chinese cabbage the most, right? This winter, let's try setting up a greenhouse with plastic sheeting to see if we can grow some Shanghai greens. This spot isn’t big, and buying some plastic sheets won’t cost much. The main thing is growing fresh greens for ourselves—it’ll make meals much more refreshing. We'll see what else we can plant later."

Xu Meng was moved to tears. Her mother really understood her.

In the past, as winter approached, every household would start hoarding Chinese cabbage—buying thousands of pounds of it. By the time they got around to eating it, the outer leaves would often be spoiled. In her past life, greenhouse technology had advanced so much that stockpiling cabbage had become a thing of the past. She never expected her mother to still remember her dislike for Chinese cabbage.

Feng Yanwen washed her hands, shook off the water, went inside to fetch two pairs of chopsticks and two bowls, handed one pair to Xu Meng, and began eating herself. The northern-style soup dumplings were larger than their southern counterparts. Taking a bite of half a dumpling, she nodded approvingly, "The dumplings from this stall at the morning market are good. Let’s buy from them again next time. The new stall on the east side isn’t as good," she said.

She added, "In the past, your grandma—Granny Xue—only let you eat the fibrous stalks. This year, we’ll buy cabbage and only eat the tender leaves. Stewed with pork, they’ll taste delicious too."

Xu Meng felt even more touched. In her past life, Chinese cabbage had been her most hated vegetable—simply because she’d eaten too much of it.

Granny Xue was controlling. Every time cabbage was cooked at home, she wouldn’t spare a single stalk, nor would she use much oil to stir-fry it. Yet, as soon as the dish was served, she’d help herself to the tender leaves first, then give a bite to Xu Dawei. By the time it was Xu Meng’s turn, only the toughest, flavorless parts remained.

"I’ll ask around later to see what other vegetables we can get."

"This year, don’t worry about anything else. Just focus on your studies. Even if I don’t work, I can support you," Feng Yanwen said, puffing up with pride. Of course, she had no intention of not working, but she still wanted to say it.

Xu Meng smiled faintly. "I know I can count on you."

Looking at the pile of chili peppers, Feng Yanwen felt a bit overwhelmed. "How are we going to eat all these?"

Xu Meng had an idea: "Let’s chop them up and make chopped chili condiment. I remember we have some empty canning jars at home. Boil the jars to sterilize them, and I’ll chop the peppers later."

The thought excited her. Making chili paste would be perfect—she could even take some to school.

Just then, Chang Xi popped her head in from outside, holding a bucket.

Seeing the two eating soup dumplings, she couldn’t help but drool.

Xu Meng quickly picked up a dumpling and stuffed it into Chang Xi’s mouth.

Chang Xi took a big bite and munched happily, then lifted the cloth covering the bucket to reveal puffy white bao inside. "Here, my mom specially bought these and told me to bring them to you."

Xu Meng didn’t know whether to be grateful or exasperated. "So many buns? They won’t keep in this weather."

Her appetite was big, but she could eat at most four dumplings in one meal, plus Feng Yanwen’s three. These buns would only last until tomorrow at most.

Chang Xi handed her a container to transfer the buns and explained, "When my mom heard that Teacher Feng was teaching me English and you were helping me study, she was overjoyed and insisted on sending you something. These dumplings are from the dining hall, and underneath are plain mantou. Eat the dumplings today—the mantou can last until tomorrow. If you really can’t finish, share them with the neighborhood kids. As soon as she brought them home, I thought it was too much. I already took a dozen or so dumplings for myself."

With that, she ran off with the empty bucket.

Feng Yanwen counted the dumplings, calculating how many they could eat that day, then waved over her younger brother, who was playing nearby.

The boy came running over eagerly.

Feng Yanwen fetched a plate from inside, placed three dumplings and three plain mantou on it, and handed it to him with a smile. "Chang Xi brought some dumplings over, and we can’t finish them all. Share these with your brothers."

As soon as Chang Xi came in, the second kid had been eyeing the steamed buns. Now that he got them, he ran off grinning from ear to ear. Feng Yanwen thought for a moment, covered the small basin of buns with a piece of gauze, and put it away in the kitchen.

Xu Meng muttered, "We really ought to get a fridge."

That same day, they washed and dried the chili peppers, and the next day chopped them into chili paste and sealed them in jars, marking the end of their little side hustle.

Xu Meng then wanted to make canned goods—yellow peaches were in season, so they could make some preserves.

A couple of days later, after selling all the watermelons, Feng Yanwen finally had time to focus on something more important.

Xu Meng immediately understood what Feng Yanwen was planning—she intended to divorce, but not slinking away in shame. She didn’t want to be seen as the guilty party anymore and wasn’t going to carry this blame one day longer than she had to.

"You know Old Lady Tiger and your grandma never really saw eye to eye," Feng Yanwen said with a dark look. "These past few nights, I’ve been slipping out to the big locust tree at night to ask the old neighbors for information. Some of them knew the truth, but for all these years, not one of them breathed a word. I’ve come to realize that’s just how people are. In the end, it was Old Lady Tiger who secretly told me that Xu Jiefang had an injury there when he was young."

She felt a stab of hurt. Some of these people had pretended to be close to her, acting concerned, yet never once gave her a hint.

But she had grown indifferent to it.

After all, that’s just how outsiders are.

Even Xu Meng was surprised. In her previous life, Feng Yanwen had divorced before things escalated this far.

Once someone is dead, who’d bother pointing fingers over who couldn’t have children?

Truthfully, Feng Yanwen wasn’t fixated on whether she could bear children or not. But why should she take the fall if it wasn’t her fault to begin with?

Feng Yanwen sighed. "The more I think about it, the less sense it makes. Their attitude—it’s like the pot calling the kettle black. The eldest and second sons both married city girls, but Xu Jiefang went out of his way to pick a village girl. What a fool I’d been to think I was lucky back then."

Today, she seemed itching to get it all off her chest, as if she wanted to pour out all the bitterness she’d endured over the years.

Feng Yanwen didn’t understand because her sources of knowledge were limited. In the 1970s, there was little education on such topics—even basic physiology and hygiene weren’t widely known. Did being well-educated mean one knew everything? There were even stories of doctoral couples sleeping together for years without conceiving, only finding out the reason after a medical checkup.

In the 1970s, most places didn’t even have televisions, and information was even harder to come by. Some books weren’t even available for sale back then.

Such matters, she naturally couldn’t bring herself to discuss openly. The only people she trusted were the elderly and doctors. The Xu family had bet on Feng Yanwen’s ignorance—and they won. They exploited her guilt and manipulated her for over a decade.

Of course, why would Xu Jiefang ever agree to a divorce?

If they divorced and he remarried but still couldn’t have children, the truth would be obvious.

Meanwhile, Feng Yanwen was still young and beautiful. If she remarried and got pregnant, it would expose the Xu family completely.

Xu Meng was genuinely shocked by the family’s scheming. "After doing something like this for so long, doesn’t she fear payback?"

In her past life, Granny Xue had indeed faced retribution. She later developed throat cancer, and none of her sons cared for her. In the end, she couldn’t eat and died howling from starvation.

Xu Meng bolted up from her seat. "Tell me the address of that clinic."

Seeing her furious expression, Feng Yanwen nearly burst into tears, worried that Xu Meng might trash the place and leave them with a bill to pay.

"It’s been so many years. The doctor might not even be there anymore."

But Xu Meng didn’t care. She stood up and walked out the door.

On this matter, she was even angrier than Feng Yanwen.

Why? She wanted to ask why.

Just thinking about everything Feng Yanwen had endured all these years made her want to smack the lot of them.

Feng Yanwen couldn't keep up and could only shake her head as her daughter walked off.

Right outside, she ran into an acquaintance.

"You look upset—what's wrong?" Han Jiming asked, looking at her curiously.

"Just taking care of something," Xu Meng replied.

"I've got my bike—I can take you," Han Jiming offered.

"Is that convenient for you?"

"No problem at all. I was just out for a walk around here anyway, with nothing else to do."

Why did he have so much free time?

Xu Meng didn’t ask how he’d gotten his bike there, but since the destination was far, having a ride would indeed be much more convenient. The place she was going was quite a distance away.

Han Jiming’s bike was parked not far off. Xu Meng noticed a sidecar hooked up today and figured he must really like company on his outings. She had heard that he only brought the sidecar when he went out for leisure—he didn’t like people riding behind him on the motorcycle.

Just as Xu Meng was about to step into the sidecar, she saw a few pieces of clothing and some miscellaneous items inside.

"Hop on back. The sidecar's drafty," Han Jiming said.

With a sigh, Xu Meng swung onto the back seat of the motorcycle.

Once the bike started moving, she understood why Han Jiming had insisted she sit behind him. His broad shoulders blocked most of the wind, so her body stayed warm—only her legs were exposed, especially her ankles. After getting on, her pants had hiked up, leaving her calves completely uncovered.

The cold air stung.

When Xu Meng was in elementary school, she'd fallen through ice once—in the dead of winter. She had been sick for a whole week afterward, and it left her with wintertime aches in her legs and head. Her fever had been so severe that many of her memories before the illness became hazy. She couldn’t recall why she had fallen into the water or how she had gotten to the hospital—those memories were completely gone.

But ever since that incident, she had become sensitive to the cold. Even a draft on her ankles bothered her.

"As the streets blurred past, it hit her she’d never said where they were going." She gave him the exact address, and as the motorcycle reached a less crowded area, Han Jiming sped up toward the place she had mentioned.

The faster the bike went, the more her ankles ached, along with her calves—like ice needles jabbing into her bones. Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on the edge of Han Jiming’s jacket. Up north, autumn had settled in, bringing a chill to the mornings and evenings.

Han Jiming seemed to notice and slowed down slightly. His words reached her over the wind: "Scared?"

It struck her as funny. She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see her. A hint of laughter slipped into her tone. "Yeah, a little."

Admitting fear was better than admitting her legs were cold.

What high schooler would buy that a girl in her teens already had chronic joint pain from the cold?

To her surprise, Han Jiming slowed down even more after hearing this, going even slower than before.

Xu Meng didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. "You don’t have to go this slow. A little faster is fine. I’ve just never ridden much before, so it’s taking some getting used to."

But Han Jiming refused to speed up. He had his own reasoning and said very seriously, "I have to look out for number one," emphasizing the word "my own."

Still, with the reduced speed, the wind wasn’t as biting, and Xu Meng felt much more comfortable.

It took some time, and by the time they reached the area, half an hour had passed.

According to Feng Yanwen, riding a bicycle there would have taken forty-five minutes. This motorcycle trip might as well have been a bike ride.

When Han Jiming parked the bike, he finally noticed Xu Meng’s wind-bitten, flushed ankles.

Achingly delicate, yet irresistibly tender.

No wonder the ancients wrote verses like, "Jade feet grace the emerald shade, fragrant breezes follow with each step."

She’d bought those pants two years ago, leaving some length at the time, but recently she seemed to have grown taller. When seated, her calves were half-exposed, and even when standing, her ankles showed.

Han Jiming planted one foot on the ground, casting a sideways glance—Xu Meng was indeed quite tall for a girl.

It was just a fleeting look before he turned away, nodding for Xu Meng to ask around for directions.

Though not as bustling as downtown, this area had plenty of residents. Xu Meng stopped a passerby: "Excuse me, do you know where Xu Jinsheng's clinic is?" Xu Jinsheng was the doctor's name.

But after asking a few people, no one had a clue.

They were in the wrong part of town. Just as Xu Meng was about to give up, an elderly woman smiled and said, "You mean Xu Jinsheng? His clinic is now run by his granddaughter. Many young folks don’t know—he moved. There’s a pharmacy over there with a spot where the Xu family sees patients."

The old woman was deaf, so she spoke loudly. Xu Meng shouted back, "Yes, yes! Did you know Xu Jinsheng too?"

Xu Jinsheng was a distant cousin several times over of Xu Jiefang. Back when he was branded during the Cultural Revolution as part of the "Four Olds," the families lost touch. Xu Meng hadn’t even known this relative existed. Now, she wondered if they had reconnected without her and her mother knowing.

The old woman was enthusiastic, though her hearing meant every sentence took repeating three times.

Xu Jinsheng was a well-known doctor in the area. In earlier years, many sought his treatment, but his kids didn’t take after him. It wasn’t until his granddaughter showed talent that he began mentoring her. Once she could practice independently, he stepped back, only handling the toughest cases now. As an elder, most younger faces in this generation didn’t recognize him.

Even Feng Yanwen had underestimated his age—Xu Jinsheng was already sixty when he treated her.

"Seventy? Xu Jinsheng is almost eighty now!" The old woman went on and on, "His skills are excellent. He’d had it easier than most in his early years and maintained himself better than average. If you saw him now, you’d think he was younger than me—but he’s over a decade older! If not for his age, would he have let his granddaughter take over? He’d have preferred a grandson."

Xu Meng noticed how the woman kept praising his medical prowess.

If his skills were that good, misdiagnosis was unlikely.

Seeing Xu Meng’s troubled expression and her search for a renowned doctor, Han Jiming misunderstood slightly. He stopped at a nearby convenience store, bought two packs of scallion crackers, and handed them to the old woman as thanks for her help. After a half-hearted protest, she accepted and shared even more, even offering to guide them—the maze-like streets here made it hard to navigate alone.

At a crossroads, she stopped. "Here, see the sign?"

Xu Meng glanced and nodded, thanking her.

"Granny, what’s Xu Jinsheng known for treating?" Han Jiming asked.

The old woman’s milky eyes lit up as she clasped Han Jiming’s hand. "Girl, keep this young man close—he treats you right. Hold onto him. Good men are rare these days."

Both fell silent for a moment before Xu Meng mumbled, too embarrassed to speak up, "Granny, you’ve misunderstood. He’s not my... partner."

The old woman grinned wider. "Playing coy, are we? I was young once too. Look at this handsome lad—if I were decades younger, I’d chase him myself! And you’re a fine match—a match made in heaven."

Xu Meng turned scarlet, desperate to disappear.

Han Jiming, thick-skinned, chuckled at her embarrassment. Realizing they wouldn’t get more answers, he motioned for Xu Meng to get back on the bike.

The earlier exchange left the air awkward. Xu Meng sat slightly farther back this time.

As Han Jiming started the engine, the old woman suddenly called after them. He hit the brakes.

Xu Meng, already an inch away from him, slammed into him from the sudden stop, closing the gap entirely—her upper body colliding with Han Jiming’s back.

He suddenly felt someone bump into his back, followed by something soft pressing against his back. Yet, even with his thick skin, the tips of his ears instantly turned red. Using the chance to chat with the old lady, he quickly brushed past the awkward moment.

"Ma'am, what's the matter?"

"You took the wrong turn. It's over there, that way." The old lady pointed across the street. "Go that way."

Oh, she was just giving directions.

Han Jiming thanked her again and drove on, this time even slower. Xu Meng could even sense his discomfort, but since he didn’t bring it up, she pretended not to notice. Both fell silent.

Once across the street, they finally spotted a clinic by the roadside. A woman in her thirties was consulting patients, though not many—mostly parents with children. Seeing the sign "Xu Family Clinic," Xu Meng knew they’d come to the right place.

Han Jiming parked by the curb, and they both got out.

At that moment, the female doctor had just finished with her last patient. Noticing Xu Meng and Han Jiming, their ears red and walking somewhat stiffly, she gestured for them to sit and asked Xu Meng to extend her wrist for a pulse reading.

Baffled but obliging, Xu Meng offered her left wrist, then her right.

After examining Xu Meng, the doctor turned to Han Jiming. "You too, extend your hand."

Han Jiming was baffled. "Me?"

The doctor glanced between them. "Here for conception help? Both need to be checked."

Xu Meng nearly choked on air. "No, no, that’s not—"

She had a striking, mature beauty, the kind that made her seem older than her age. Was that why the doctor assumed they were a couple seeking fertility help? Before she could react, her face flushed crimson. Han Jiming, though, burst out laughing, which only made Xu Meng burn even hotter.

Today was beyond ridiculous—twice now, they’d been mistaken for a couple. But that wasn’t the point. Did they really look like a couple trying for a baby?

Han Jiming stifled his laughter and motioned for her to calm down. "Easy—we’re just here for a checkup."

But Xu Meng couldn’t let it slide. "No, we need to clarify. We’re not here for that."

Han Jiming laughed harder. "Yeah, absolutely need to clear that up."

The doctor tapped the table impatiently. "Are you here for a consultation or just wasting my time?"

Xu Meng’s face turned beet-red as she glanced between Han Jiming and the doctor, forcing herself to steady her voice. "Doctor, let me ask—say, if a couple comes for conception help, should both be present?"

Han Jiming: "..."

The doctor looked puzzled. "Obviously?"

Xu Meng’s eyes brightened. "Wait, so a pulse reading can *show* infertility?"

The doctor, still confused, immediately denied it. "How could that be? No physician, however skilled, can diagnose that!"

Xu Meng pushed, "I heard Old Xu is highly skilled. Couldn’t even he detect it from the pulse?"

Before she could continue, an elderly man emerged from the back. Around sixty-something, with half-white eyebrows, he looked quite spry, walking at a steady pace. He smiled at them—clearly Xu Jinsheng.

The female doctor asked him, "Grandpa, can you diagnose infertility from the pulse?"

Xu Jinsheng replied, "Of course not. But conditions like difficulty conceiving, uterine coldness, or kidney deficiency—those can be detected. I’ve told you before, don’t rely solely on pulse readings. Observation, listening, questioning—all are necessary. Without understanding the couple’s situation, how can you pinpoint who’s infertile? Is this young man refusing the examination?"

His gaze shifted to Han Jiming, who stood by, amused.

Han Jiming: “…” He really wasn’t here about having kids today.

Xu Meng stood up. “Ten-plus years ago, why did you tell a woman it was her who couldn’t conceive?”

Xu Jinsheng froze for a moment, then turned and walked toward the back.

Xu Meng raised her voice. “Is this how a doctor should act?”

He didn’t deny it—was that guilt?

The other patients started whispering among themselves.

If there had been any doubt at first, seeing Xu Jinsheng’s expression now made everything clear. Xu Jinsheng hadn’t just neglected to examine Xu Jiefang properly—he had outright lied about who the real problem was.

Xu Meng wanted to tear the clinic apart, but she had come today for the truth. She continued loudly, “Doctor Xu, I don’t care what your reasons were—you shouldn’t diagnose someone with something they don’t have. Just now you said having kids isn’t just one person’s fault, so why did you tell my mother all those years ago that it was her problem?”

There was a crash from the back room. Xiao Xu hurried off toward the sound while the patients in front grew uneasy.

A doctor’s reputation is everything—Xu Jinsheng might lose his standing in his later years.

Xu Meng was still fuming when she marched out.

Seeing Han Jiming still sitting there, she seized his wrist and pulled him outside.

Han Jiming didn’t know what was happening, but with her small hand gripping his wrist, he unconsciously followed her lead, glancing at her with a puzzled expression as they walked. He couldn’t figure out why she had come here today or why she suddenly wanted to leave.

Xu Meng walked far ahead, stopping only when they reached the motorcycle. She suddenly started breathing hard.

Like she was drowning—or maybe finally coming up for air—in that moment her mind was a chaotic mess, thoughts suffocating under the weight of it all. She wanted to cry, but more than anything, she thought of her mother.

Past and present tangled together, making it hard to breathe.

Just as she had suspected, the problem had never been Feng Yanwen.

Feng Yanwen had spent over thirty years of her life—nearly two decades—dealing with these people.

She had carried this stigma while Xu Jiefang took out his frustration and resentment on her with beatings—but what had Feng Yanwen done wrong?

Not only had she done nothing wrong, but she had also been misled all these years.

By thirty-five, pregnancy was already considered high-risk for women. Feng Yanwen was thirty-six now—even if the truth came out, what good would it do? Her best childbearing years were gone. Back then, people didn’t accept childless couples so easily, and Feng Yanwen had always loved children.

And Xu Jiefang—how could he? How could he pin the blame on his wife like that, forcing her to carry the guilt of infertility while abusing her all these years, even costing her her job?

The Xu family probably never imagined that one day, Xu Jiefang’s violence would put Feng Yanwen in the hospital.

Nor would they expect that some doctor, unable to stand by, would step in and reveal a basic truth to her.

Han Jiming asked, “Xu Meng, where are we going now?”

Something was wrong with her expression, and that strange feeling in his chest was gone.

Xu Meng didn’t remember getting on the bike. This time, Han Jiming had her sit in the sidecar instead of behind him. He took off his jacket and pulled it over her head before driving back into the city.

It wasn’t until they slowed down in the city that Xu Meng came to her senses, realizing she was wrapped in Han Jiming’s leather jacket.

She looked at him—the white shirt made him look even more striking.

Thinking back on that ridiculous scene earlier, she finally felt embarrassed. She buried her face in her knees, but with Han Jiming’s jacket around her, it looked like she was clinging to it. His clean, masculine scent filled her nose.

...The awkwardness deepened.

Han Jiming: "You okay? Motion sickness?"

Why was her face flushed again, like she was uneasy?

Xu Meng: "I’m good. You cold?"

Han Jiming shook his head: "Not really."

Xu Meng didn’t want to trouble him too much: "Then why’d you even bring a jacket?"

Han Jiming: "Guess it makes me look cooler."

Xu Meng: "You’re plenty handsome in just a shirt."

Han Jiming went quiet, though his ears reddened once more.

They dropped the awkward subject because they had reached the entrance of Xu Meng’s alley.

Han Jiming’s bike had a sidecar—no way it could fit down most hutongs. He could only take her as far as the alley’s mouth. Xu Meng hopped off and passed him the jacket. When Han Jiming stood there, jacket in hand, without moving, she couldn’t help but urge him.

"Put it on."

"Oh."

Riding a bike’s chilly—you should wear it." Xu Meng looked at him. "You’ll be better off with it."

Han Jiming shrugged the jacket back on. Suddenly, it smelled like someone else now.

Weird feeling.

Xu Meng added: "Got stuff to handle today."

Han Jiming nodded. "I know. Go ahead. Dinner’s on hold—next time."

He’d caught on again. Xu Meng’s face instantly flushed crimson. It seemed like every time they met, she owed him a meal. With so many debts, could she ever repay them all?

But given Han Jiming’s temperament and what she had just said, he could easily guess the meaning behind her earlier questions. Her adoptive mother apparently never had children.

Pinning infertility on women? Pathetic.

Xu Meng started toward Chang Xi’s place. Walking a stretch without hearing the motorcycle start, she turned back and saw Han Jiming, still in his white shirt, standing there watching her leave. Something fluttered in her chest, and she waved.

Han Jiming waved her on—no looking back.

A pack of scrawny alley kids had been loitering nearby. Spotting a tall guy with a killer bike, they poked their heads out to watch.

Xu Meng’s spirits lifted—she nearly skipped the rest of the way home.