Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Nan Liujing couldn't understand—what does Shen Gali even need a phone for? Was it just to use as a brick for self-defense when necessary?

Had he ever answered a single one of his calls? Even if he hated answering calls and had some kind of phone anxiety, at least he should have said where he was going before going out.

With no sign of him for so long, Uncle Li had already called the security team to search the whole city, while Nan Liujing sat on the third-floor balcony, staring toward the main gate. This spot gave a clear view, allowing him to see him the second he showed up.

Anxious, indignant, and helpless—because the person in question was Shen Gali, and no punishment seemed to teach him a lesson. In fact, he even seemed to enjoy being punished.

Nan Liujing hung his head in exhaustion, letting out a long sigh through his nose. In the twenty-nine years of his life, he had never met anyone more difficult to handle than Shen Gali. Or rather, he had never encountered someone who operated so completely outside of his perfectly laid plans.

In the silence, a silver Maybach came around the corner, heading straight for the house before stopping at the main gate.

Then, Shen Gali got out lazily, not looking back, and the driver immediately got out and chased after him.

As soon as Nan Liujing recognized the man's face, he stood up quickly, leaning in a little to get a better look.

This person was... Evan? The Rosander family's youngest son, the one who had collaborated with Huanhai Electronics on a business deal a few years ago?

Evan kept pressing, asking Shen Gali when he would be free, hoping Shen Gali would show him around Jinhai City. He was always in a rush when he came and hadn't had the chance to truly experience the city's culture and history.

Shen Gali replied tersely, "No time."

"I'm not in a rush. Whenever it's convenient for you." Evan said softly.

Shen Gali ignored him and walked through the courtyard into the house.

Nan Liujing looked down at the foreigner outside the gate, still lingering reluctantly, staring with longing. He found it amusing. Showing off such affection at someone else's doorstep, and especially toward a married man. Was this how the so-called gentlemen of that nation behaved?

Hearing Shen Gali's footsteps coming upstairs, Nan Liujing slowly sat back down and sent a message to Uncle Li, telling him to come home.

Just as Shen Gali was about to enter the room, Nan Liujing stopped him.

"Where did you go?"

"Signing a contract." Shen Gali's voice was thick with phlegm, hoarse to the point where it was barely recognizable.

"Didn't I tell you the doctor was coming today? And even if you had urgent business, why didn't you pick up the phone? You should at least let the family know your location."

This wasn't the first time Shen Gali had done something like this, but as soon as Nan Liujing heard his hoarse voice, raspy and congested, a sudden, unexplained anger flared up inside him.

Shen Gali detested any kind of dwelling on the past. What was done was done, and blame served no purpose. Even if it was meant as a disciplinary lesson, he would still do it again next time.

So the best way to fight back was to make people feel awkward.

He stopped, turned his head slightly, his silhouette blurred in the dim, faint light.

"So what?" Shen Gali's voice was weak and breathy. "Worried about me? Upset?"

Nan Liujing's gaze darkened, his eyes involuntarily widening slightly, the word "yes" almost slipping out.

He quickly changed the subject. "Why did a Rosander bring you back?"

Shen Gali: "What, suspecting I'm having an affair?"

Nan Liujing remained silent.

Shen Gali dropped it, went into his room, and lay down.

It wasn't until he was inside that Nan Liujing's tension eased, his body no longer so stiff.

Strange. When Shen Gali asked that question, his first thought wasn't to deny it.

Was he really... worried?

When he couldn't find him, he risked exposing a secret and drove over a hundred kilometers away. When he learned Shen Gali wanted ten thousand paper cranes, he put work aside and turned his secretaries and assistants into crafting experts overnight. When he said he wanted a doll, he stayed up for three days and nights, pricking his hands until they looked like pincushions, only to have Shen Gali complain about it. And even then, he continued sewing through the night. Worse, when Shen Gali showed more fondness for the doll pendant Bai Wei gave him, he actually felt disappointed.

Crazy.

He couldn't keep going on like this. If he really fell for him one day, wouldn't the divorce agreement become a useless piece of paper?

...

Shen Gali's low fever hadn't fully subsided, and after getting caught in the rain in the afternoon, his temperature shot up in the middle of the night.

His head ached terribly, his throat felt like it was tearing apart, and there seemed to be countless ants crawling wildly in his chest.

In the next room, Nan Liujing was staring at his laptop, dealing with the backlog of work from the past few days, when he heard relentless, gut-wrenching coughing from the other side of the wall. It went on for a long time with no sign of stopping.

His typing fingers paused, but quickly resumed their rhythm.

Ignore him. He definitely was not worried. Hold on. As long as he could ignore Shen Gali's coughing, he would never fall for him.

The sound of keyboard clacking grew louder, the rhythm more urgent, as if venting some emotion.

Five minutes later.

"Your coughing is too loud. Take this medicine." Nan Liujing pushed open Shen Gali's door, holding a bottle of cough syrup.

What he saw was Shen Gali curled up on the bed, coughing uncontrollably.

Each rasping cough sounded like a blade scraping over gravel, as if it would tear his organs out.

Nan Liujing had never been so irritated before—whether it was because of the noise or because of the sight of Shen Gali so helpless and in pain.

At that moment, he made peace with himself.

Taking care of a patient didn't count as falling for him.

Nan Liujing lay sideways on the bed, propping himself on the edge, wrapped one arm around Shen Gali's shoulders, and pulled him close.

Through the thin pajamas, Nan Liujing's fingertips felt a scorching heat. Though Shen Gali was coughing violently, he seemed to be coughing reflexively, barely conscious, eyes still closed, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. The faint scent that only Nan Liujing could smell intensified, warmed by his skin temperature.

It turned out that tenderness was a tangible feeling, as if he could clearly feel a part of his heart sinking at that very moment.

Nan Liujing's brows furrowed deeply, his dark eyes blazing with heat like molten rock from the earth's core.

He pulled Shen Gali into his arms, feeling his body tremble with each cough.

"There there." Nan Liujing said stiffly, his hand resting on Shen Gali's abdomen, patting awkwardly, without rhythm. "The doctor will be here soon."

Uncle Li was also woken by the coughing and rushed over. He found the thermometer and took Shen Gali's temperature—39.8°C (103.6°F).

The alarmingly high temperature suddenly filled Nan Liujing with a deep sense of helplessness.

He didn't know whether to yell at him or comfort him. Either way, Shen Gali never learned his lesson. In all his life, he had never met anyone more troublesome than Shen Gali.

As he was thinking, Shen Gali's body suddenly stiffened, followed by a cough that seemed to rip his chest open.

In his confusion, Nan Liujing pressed down on his left chest, holding it tightly and pushing firmly. He was genuinely afraid that this violent cough might split the wound open.

Then he heard Shen Gali's faint, weak voice: "Pervert, taking advantage of me at a time like this..."

Nan Liujing: ...

I didn't. I'm not.

He had just moved his hand to prove he wasn't what Shen Gali said, only for another heart-wrenching cough to erupt, making him quickly press his hand back.

The family doctor was dragged out of bed mid-sleep, cursing the evils of capitalism repeatedly in his mind before finally arriving late.

After an examination, the doctor concluded:

"Pneumonia, initially determined to be chemical pneumonia caused by gastric acid reflux. The gastric acid reflux is due to a gastric ulcer, brought on by the patient's long-term poor dietary habits. Additionally, a cold has worsened the condition. This is just my preliminary judgment; a blood test and other checks at the hospital will be needed to confirm the true cause."

Upon hearing the word "hospital," the drowsy Shen Gali, panting between words, weakly protested: "Not going to the hospital..."

"Without hospital equipment, it's hard to pinpoint the real cause, and we won't be able to prescribe the right treatment," the doctor said.

"I'm not going..." Shen Gali shook his head with all his strength, showing his determination.

For most people, a hospital is a holy place to save lives, but for him, it's no different from purgatory. No exaggeration—every time they draw blood, the big, thick needle makes him roll his eyes, and the barium meal for a CT scan makes him want to vomit but he can't. Even the small clamps placed on his chest during an electrocardiogram pinch and hurt.

Before he could finish, the doctor was silenced by a glance from Nan Liujing and quickly shut up.

The doctor cleared his throat, picking up his medical kit: "I've given the patient an anti-inflammatory injection of azithromycin, but this type of injection can irritate the gastric mucosa, possibly causing nausea and vomiting. I suggest taking some omeprazole enteric-coated tablets..."

"No medicine..." Before he could finish speaking, Shen Gali interrupted again.

Can't he just not take medicine? He's already a walking pill bottle.

The doctor shot him a dark look but smiled on the surface: "Or have some hot porridge, add some pumpkin to nourish the stomach. Don't eat noodles, because the patient's digestive system is very fragile right now; undigested noodles can form sticky clumps in the stomach."

After listing some precautions, the doctor said he couldn't take it anymore and needed to go back to rest, adding that they could call him if there were any issues.

To prevent emergencies, Nan Liujing asked the doctor to stay overnight here.

Upon hearing this, Uncle Li's face filled with shock.

Young master hated having outsiders in the house; even the cleaning staff could only come in periodically. Having the doctor sleep over was unprecedented. Indeed, it seemed young master doted on Mr. Shen so much that he would break his own rules for him. Oh, the old man had found something to ship!

Looking at the ailing Shen Gali, Uncle Li offered to help make pumpkin porridge immediately.

But Nan Liujing said, "I'll do it. You help him change the fever patches."

He hated the smell of grease, yet he could never forget that bowl of pumpkin porridge.

On his sixth birthday, his mother, in a rare moment of clarity, sewed a doll for him and cooked a bowl of pumpkin porridge, sticking a small candle in it as a birthday cake.

The sweet pumpkin porridge was his mother's unique flavor.

In the twenty-three years since his mother passed, he had never eaten it again. Perhaps it was because seeing the object reminded him of the person; the simple porridge was a reminder that the only person who loved him in this world was already gone.

Today, however, for some reason, he wanted Shen Gali to eat the pumpkin porridge he made himself.

Pumpkin is troublesome to handle—peeling it and cutting it into tiny pieces tests both knife skills and patience.

It was only when Nan Liujing struggled to cut the pumpkin that he finally understood the difficult battle his mother had fought against her inner demons to make that bowl of porridge for him.

"Gurgle, gurgle." The porridge bubbled in the clay pot, releasing waves of sweet aroma.

The snowy hot porridge was topped with golden pumpkin shreds, cooling slightly as it was ladled into a ceramic bowl.

Carrying the bowl into the room, he found Uncle Li sitting by Shen Gali's bed, dozing with his head drooping—an old man and a young man sleeping head-to-head.

Nan Liujing told Uncle Li to go back to his room and rest. Uncle Li insisted on staying until Shen Gali's fever broke, even yawning widely mid-sentence.

"Go back first." Nan Liujing silently cursed the old man for his lack of tact.

Is he worried whether you got enough sleep? No, it's that you're in the way—can't you see?

Uncle Li caught on, bowed respectfully: "Call me if you need anything, young master."

As he left, he thoughtfully closed the door.

When the porridge had cooled enough, Nan Liujing shook Shen Gali awake: "Get up and eat the porridge, or if you throw up all over the bed, I'm not changing your sheets."

In truth, Shen Gali hadn't been asleep at all; his head ached terribly, and as the doctor said, his stomach was churning with nausea, gastric acid seemingly surging up.

But he had no appetite—the anti-inflammatory injection had left a metallic taste in his mouth.

Seeing that he wasn't moving and knowing he wasn't asleep, Nan Liujing asked, "Should I call Bai Wei and tell her about your condition? Or should I invite her over to personally feed you?"

Shen Gali gritted his teeth and sat up, staring at him with a resentful look.

Sure, he wanted to see his mom when he was vulnerable, but it was two in the morning—don't bother her.

He slowly looked at the bowl of porridge on the table. It was still steaming. Although his nose was stuffy, he could sense the sweetness emanating from it.

"You made it?" He started asking irrelevant questions to stall.

"Yeah." Nan Liujing looked away, gazing out the window at the few remaining redwoods in the courtyard.

Then, absentmindedly, he said, "My mother was born into a wealthy family; she never had to lift a finger in the kitchen. The only thing she ever cooked for me was that bowl of pumpkin porridge on my sixth birthday."

That ugly doll, that simple bowl of porridge—they were marks left by a mother who had endured humiliation, her only attachment to this world.

If forgetting means the end of a person, he wanted these to continue in this world.

Shen Gali quietly studied his profile. The redwoods cast shifting, irregular shadows across his face.

Fine, you win. You found the only way to defeat me.

With a fever close to 40°C (104°F), Shen Gali's vision was blurry, every cell in his body screaming in pain. His numb hands could no longer hold the bowl steady. As it was about to spill onto the bed, Nan Liujing reached out and caught it.

He scooped up a spoonful of porridge and brought it to Shen Gali's lips: "Open your mouth."

Shen Gali suddenly asked out of nowhere, "What if I don't eat? Will I die?"

"No, but you'll feel awful."

"What does it matter to you if I feel awful?"

"Nothing. It's not me who'll feel awful."

"Then why do you care about me?"

Nan Liujing's hand froze in midair.

Why did he always ask questions that left him speechless? He'd made up his mind to torment him until they divorced, so why was he the one getting tormented?

Seeing him stay quiet, Shen Gali didn't push it, lowering his head to accept the spoonful.

Nan Liujing watched him eat the porridge like a robot, spoonful by spoonful, without a word. He suddenly wondered if he liked the porridge, and how he thought it tasted.

But Nan Liujing knew that with Shen Gali's personality, asking would probably get him nowhere.

Still, having personally cooked the pumpkin porridge and fed it to him spoon by spoon, he secretly hoped to hear a word of praise—just like back then when his mother had made porridge for him. It was actually awful—she'd added something that made it bitter and hard to swallow, yet he forced himself to finish it, and finally, under her hopeful gaze, he swallowed his honesty and said it was delicious.

Now, he suddenly understood a little how his mother must have felt.

But Shen Gali was not Nan Liujing. He found it exhausting to lie against his conscience. So, many times when a lie could've made things easier, he insisted on telling the truth, as if being wrong made him even more self-righteous.

He quickly finished a bowl of hot porridge, and his stomach felt a little better.

Nan Liujing never got to hear a single "delicious"—not even as a white lie. But the bond between them was not as close as that between mother and son; besides, with Shen Gali's personality, he'd never get a kind word out of him.

Nan Liujing stroked the empty bowl, as if waiting for something.

In the silence, only unsteady breaths and the faint rattle in his chest could be heard.

Nan Liujing gave up waiting. He silently picked up the empty bowl, planning to wash it in the kitchen. When he looked up, his gaze met Shen Gali's.

The high fever had flushed his cheeks, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused, but it was clear that he was looking at him.

As if he had something to say.

Nan Liujing stared back at him, also silent. In the quiet, their gazes kept meeting and breaking away, tugging at each other, as if countless invisible threads pulled them back together the moment their eyes separated.

Shen Gali blinked slowly, his gaze gradually drifting toward the empty bowl in Nan Liujing's hand.

After what seemed like an eternity, his pale, dry lips slowly parted and three words came out:

"Any more?"

"Snap." Nan Liujing's eyes widened suddenly, as if a string in his mind had quietly snapped.

"Is it good?" he asked hesitantly, scared he might be getting his hopes up too soon.

Shen Gali coughed lightly, turned his head, and murmured: "Mm."

Since his illness, the long-term medication had wrecked his sense of taste, leaving him unable to distinguish the flavors of food—he couldn't tell good from bad—everything tasted the same.

That went for this bowl of porridge too. He couldn't rely on his sense of taste to judge whether it was delicious. But for the first time, he finished it and craved more. So he figured it must be delicious. Delicious things create desire, just like now—he couldn't get enough.

But the only baby pumpkin, thanks to Nan Liujing's masterful knife skills, had shrunk to nothing after being peeled, leaving the small pumpkin no bigger than a child's fist—enough for just one bowl.

"Wait for me," Nan Liujing said and left the room.

He first thought about asking Uncle Li to hit a 24-hour supermarket, but then thought better of it: that wily old man would definitely think he cared too much about Shen Gali. He couldn't let such a baseless idea take root.

Nan Liujing went out alone to the underground parking lot, casually tossed the wheelchair aside, and got into the car.

The streets of Jin City in the early morning were deserted. Yellow streetlights flickered over the smooth, elegant lines of the car's body.

Nan Liujing drove to a 24-hour supermarket a few kilometers away. He looked around but found no pumpkins. The clerk said they were sold out and told him to try another store.

He ran to several supermarkets, all with the same reply: sold out.

Sometimes, things just don't go your way. Pumpkins, which usually lingered on shelves, were all sold out today—probably because the change of season had triggered many cases of gastroenteritis, and everyone knew pumpkin was good for the stomach, so sales were better than usual.

Special Assistant Lin, who had been sleeping soundly, was summoned by a phone call from his boss. He thought something had happened at the company to make his boss call at three in the morning. But what he got was:

"Besides 24-hour supermarkets, where else can I buy pumpkins?"

Special Assistant Lin: ???

"You could try local farmers, but I think the nearest vegetable-growing area is about a hundred kilometers away."

Was the boss okay? He was on call 24/7, and now his life revolved around a pumpkin?

The farmer also had bad luck: before the roosters even crowed, someone was knocking on his door. He thought something had happened to his greenhouse, but it turned out to be just for a pumpkin?

Still, the visitor was generous, spending a fortune to buy up the next five years of pumpkins. Indeed, his mother was right: early birds catch the worms.

For the sake of a pumpkin, Nan Liujing didn't get home until five in the morning.

By the time the porridge was ready, dawn had broken.

Shen Gali was groggily awakened. The moment he opened his eyes, a large hand covered his forehead.

"Looks like the fever has broken."

It should have broken. Shen Gali slowly moved his fingers, feeling much lighter. Though he still coughed heavily, at least the muscle soreness was gone, and his head didn't hurt as much.

He glanced up and caught sight of the sweat dripping from Nan Liujing's damp hair, sliding down his cheek.

"Where did you go?" Shen Gali leaned in to look closely, trying to tell if it was sweat or water.

Nan Liujing brushed aside his half-wet hair and abruptly leaned back.

Did he smell of sweat? Would he notice?

"I went to buy pumpkins for you." Nan Liujing turned his face away, pressing his fingers against his collar, subtly wiping the sweat on his neck.

Shen Gali watched his movements and couldn't help but marvel: comparing people drives you crazy. I wipe sweat like a little beggar; he wipes sweat like he's posing for a photoshoot.

"Liar. You bought them? Don't tell me you made Driver Yang run around again in the middle of the night."

Nan Liujing took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. "I bought them myself."

No explanation. I bought them, period.

Shen Gali glanced at his legs and made a vague "oh."

The next second, a large hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up and meet Nan Liujing's frowning brows, sharp eyes, and tightly pressed lips.

It seemed like a silent accusation: I bought them myself.

His features, twisted in eagerness to clarify, carried a hint of grudging anger.

Shen Gali kept watching him, and then—

"Pfft—" He couldn't help but burst out laughing.

It was hilarious. The mighty Nan Liujing, brought low by a pumpkin.

A laugh set off a series of coughs.

But at this moment, Nan Liujing had already forgotten to bring him water and pat his back, his mind still lingering on that mocking smirk from just now.

This was the first time in over four months of knowing Shen Gali that he had seen him smile.

Even though it was a smirk.

Shen Gali was always complaining, always unhappy, his face perpetually blank, as if he had lost the ability to move his facial muscles. So when his smile appeared, Nan Liujing felt a strange sense of achievement.

When he smiled, his eyes would narrow into crescent moons, revealing neat, white teeth, and the corners of his mouth would form two small dimples.

So beautiful.

Nan Liujing instantly sat up straight. No, not beautiful—he was just unfamiliar with it, so it seemed new to him.

But that fleeting smile imprinted itself firmly in his mind over the next few days, refusing to fade. Every time he thought of it, he felt a weird sense of pleasure.

During these two days that Shen Gali was sick, somehow news leaked out. His phone vibrated N times per hour, and the number of annoying people grew from No. 4 to No. 7.

Ren Yinuo: "Brother Gali, I copied a secret prescription from a Chinese medicine practitioner I know. Take this and you'll get better soon."

Nan Feng: "Daughter-in-law, how are you feeling? If you need anything, just tell Dad. Don't worry about the money."

Evan: "If you need, I can call my personal doctor to fly over from the UK right now."

Hein: "Shen Gali, get well soon. Don't worry me. Because you're sick, I haven't slept well these days."

Shen Gali angrily turned off his phone, but then, afraid of missing Bai Wei's call, he sheepishly turned it back on.

Although they were indeed concerned about him, don't they get that a sick person needs rest? Don't send meaningless texts that won't help him get better! And especially don't call him on WeChat!

These people were even worse than Pest No. 1, Nan Liujing, who at least could cook porridge.

He had just silently praised Nan Liujing a little when that afternoon, a crowd of people arrived at the house, along with countless pieces of medical equipment commonly seen in hospitals...

The barium meal he hadn't had in the hospital—he finally got to choke down at home...

Nan Liujing spent a fortune to buy large medical equipment, converting the entire third floor into a small hospital. He even invited several top experts in the field, who surrounded Shen Gali.

The final test results were the same as the family doctor's conclusion: chemical pneumonia caused by acid reflux, not contagious. But he would still have to spend the next few days in endless treatment.

Bai Wei didn't call or text; she came directly.

Because she was busy filming, she was the last to hear the news. As soon as her work ended, she hurried over.

Shen Gali, who had just finished a complete blood count, was covering the puncture site. When he saw Bai Wei, his usually calm face brightened with joy, which quickly turned into pent-up grievances from the past few days.

"Baiwei, it hurts..."

Bai Wei looked at the thick needle that had punctured his vein and been withdrawn, and reproached him: "How could you go out with a fever, and not take an umbrella in the rain? If you didn't have an umbrella, go buy one. If you didn't have money, call me and I'll bring you one."

"Because they said that if I signed the contract, you would be there too," Shen Gali lowered his head. "But I still didn't get to see you."

Bai Wei went quiet.

After a long while, she reached out and tousled his hair, smiling. "If you want to see me, just call me. I keep my phone by my side every day waiting for your call, distracted at work. I want to call you, but I'm afraid of disturbing you."

"As long as you say you want to see me, I can 'whoosh' and be by your side."

Nan Liujing, standing on the sidelines: ...

This strange atmosphere.

Taking advantage of the free time, Bai Wei made some small pastries and brought them up. They were exquisite, with a variety of patterns, and looked beautiful arranged on a green bone china plate.

Nan Liujing watched the two of them chatting and laughing, and suddenly felt redundant. Just then, the doctor called him, so he left the room, leaving the two alone.

While Shen Gali was eating, Bai Wei steeled herself for a long time, then asked cautiously: "Can I ask something bold? I heard that you are not Mrs. Shen's biological child?"

She knew this topic might make Shen Gali uncomfortable, but she still asked.

But Shen Gali just said: "Thankfully, no."

"Thankfully?"

"Mm, thankfully."

"Then do you know who your biological parents... are?" She ventured.

"I don't know, but it's not that important either." In this fictional world, who his adoptive parents were, who his biological parents were—they were all just other people's stories. He didn't care enough to get emotional over other people's stories. "A child only recognizes one mother in his life. Sometimes blood ties are insignificant."

Bai Wei looked into his eyes, her heart pounding. Amidst the noise, she could still hear her own heart pounding like thunder.

Then she asked slowly, deliberately: "Would you be willing for it to be me?"

The moment those words left her lips, whether by chance or because of the tension, the noisy mansion fell completely silent, as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

Shen Gali was halfway through chewing a piece of egg cake and hadn't swallowed yet, making his cheek bulge.

Bai Wei clutched the hem of her clothes tightly, holding her breath, hoping yet afraid to hear Shen Gali's answer.

When she gave birth to her first child, a nurse worked with traffickers, saying a kid with genes as good as hers would sell for a lot. So they swapped her baby with another victim's child, and her own child was sent away without a word.

But perhaps there is an indescribable spiritual connection between mother and child. Although all newborns look more or less the same, and she was in so much pain she passed out without seeing her son, when the nurse brought the baby for her to see, she knew at a glance it wasn't hers.

Even though it was their first meeting, she was sure: this wasn't her child.

After the nurse who worked with traffickers was arrested, she couldn't say where the children sent to traffickers had gone. To get rid of them fast and cover their tracks, the traffickers could have the children out of the province within an hour. They weren't afraid of police roadblocks—they had special transit stations. If they couldn't sell them immediately, they'd send them all there and wait for the heat to die down before continuing their crimes.

Bai Wei had never given up searching for her child for over twenty years. Her second child had already died; all her hope rested on finding her firstborn, the flesh and blood she had brought into the world. Even after twenty years of emotional blank, even if her son had already called his kidnappers "father" and "mother," she still had to find him.

Over the years, she had received countless phone calls and met countless children who resembled her son. But with just one look, she knew they weren't him.

It was only when she saw Shen Gali's photo that she truly felt a spark of hope, which gradually turned into a raging fire that could shake the heavens.

A few days ago, during a commercial audition with Shen Gali, she found a few strands of his hair from the clothes he had worn, and took them for a test. She wanted to find a reasonable answer to her inner doubts, and today the results would come out.

But then she suddenly heard Shen Gali's words: "Sometimes blood ties are insignificant."

She looked at Shen Gali again. The child was looking at her with tear-filled eyes, mouth slightly open as if eager to say something, but before he could speak, his phone rang.

Embarrassed, Bai Wei left the room to answer the call. It was from the testing center.

"Ms. Bai, the test results are ready. Would you like to pick up the report in person, or have it delivered to your home?"

Bai Wei stared at the marbled floor with its swirling patterns, and after a long while, said softly:

"No need. Please dispose of it for me."

"You mean, have it delivered to your home?"

"No," said Bai Wei. "Tear it up or burn it for me, either works."

While waiting for an answer, she had been unable to sleep all week, unable to focus on work. Every time she thought about it, she felt uneasy. She feared the final result wouldn't be the answer she wanted.

But this child had given her a way to win either way, no matter the outcome.

He knew what she was thinking.

The staff at the testing center were confused. Although they rarely encountered such clients, it wasn't unheard of.

In this era, everyone hopes to use scientific means to seek a definite answer, but there are still some people who, at the last moment, choose to entrust their fate to their own hands, because the answer is already clear in their hearts just before the result appears.

Bai Wei took a deep breath, pinched her cheeks, and forced her muscles to form a smile.

As she entered the door, she collided with the big boy rushing toward her.

"What took you so long to come see me?" At this moment, Shen Gali suddenly understood why people need hugs to express emotions.

He didn't care if Bai Wei was his mother's rebirth or reincarnation, or something science couldn't explain. As long as she was the one, that was enough.

Shen Gali also couldn't bring himself to burst into tears like in TV dramas when loved ones reunite, all that sappy, dramatic stuff. His mother always said, when you see someone you like, you should smile, so the other person can feel your joy.

Since you came into this world crying, don't leave crying either. Smiling takes less energy than crying.

Bai Wei gently patted the child's back and whispered with a smile in his ear, "Well, here I am, aren't I?"

Shen Gali hugged her tighter: "A little late, but better late than never, Mom."

The word "Mom" came out smoothly and naturally, with no sense of awkwardness. It was just that ever since he learned to speak as a little kid, he'd been calling her that, over and over.

He had no religious beliefs. Even though the facts had told him that he had transmigrated into a novel world, he remained an unwavering atheist.

And this natural, casual "Mom" exactly confirmed the saying, "A child only feels they have seen God when they see their mother." This deep-rooted habit was his only faith.

Nan Liujing at the door stood silently: Guess I'll just go, then?

He had heard Shen Gali's "Mom" loud and clear. Once that word was spoken, it became the most beautiful word in the world.

But such a beautiful and moving word, he'd probably never get to say it again in his life.

Nan Liujing silently retreated from the room and closed the door.

He entered the storage room, and from the dim, dusty shadows, he pulled out a dusty photo album. The crimson velvet cover was a microcosm of the past twenty-plus years.

His mother loved taking photos when she was alive. She was the daughter of a wealthy family with an eye for fashion. Whether shooting landscapes or portraits, she had a keen eye and took gorgeous photos. From the time he was born, hundreds of photos recorded his early childhood, but after the age of five, there were few photos.

By then, she had already become mentally confused and had gradually forgotten her former hobbies. But whenever she got the chance to hold a camera, she still habitually took a photo of her son.

The last photo in the album was of six-year-old Nan Liujing standing beside his mother, no smile on his face, staring blankly at the camera, but it was obvious that his attention was elsewhere.

Beside him was his mother with disheveled hair, a sinister smile, and fingers contorted in strange gestures, like a bizarre monster, sending chills down your spine.

"Thud." Nan Liujing suddenly closed the album and threw it into a neglected old corner.

Just then, his phone rang.

He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen, where the cold name "Father" was flashing.

Nan Feng's fondness for Shen Gali didn't extend to Nan Liujing; otherwise, he wouldn't have picked up and immediately barked an emotionless command:

"Bring Jiali home tonight. I have something very important to announce."