Chapter 7 Meeting the Mother-in-Law

After receiving Lin Zaishan's phone call, Yuan Che felt as if he'd come back to life.

On the other end of the line, Lin Zaishan's voice was as gentle and steady as the first time they met. Sure enough, his sister hadn't lied to him—after all, his husband had personally said that Yuan Simiao had already contacted him, and the exact words being, "We'll talk about the specifics when we meet."

Just those few words, like a breath of fresh air, smoothed away his anxiety. Whether or not others knew didn't matter; the most important person hadn't denied it, and that was enough for Yuan Che.

However, Lin Zaishan's voice on the phone seemed a bit troubled. It made Yuan Che wonder: could it be that his sister had lost her temper and said something harsh that scared him? Just like how she had bullied him since they were kids…

Thinking about this, Yuan Che felt a twinge of resentment toward Yuan Simiao, but then he reconsidered—he shouldn't jump to conclusions or blame his sister. After all, his husband had been given to him by his sister. Before things were clear, he shouldn't be too impulsive.

Since Lin Zaishan seemed to have difficulties, he shouldn't add to his troubles. Let others remain ignorant if they wanted; as long as Lin Zaishan knew the truth, that was fine. Besides, when he had shouted "Husband" on the phone, Lin Zaishan hadn't denied it, only hummed softly in response, yet from that slight sound, Yuan Che sensed a restrained affection.

Still, logically, Lin Zaishan should have called him "husband" too. Not hearing it in return, a trace of disappointment drifted through Yuan Che's heart. But as soon as the call ended, he immediately forgave him. Even though he had never been in love, he felt that since Lin Zaishan was already his, he should unconditionally pamper and tolerate him. Such a trivial matter, as the other husband, he didn't need to dwell on.

So now, the only thing left to worry about is what Lin Zaishan had clearly said on the phone: he wasn't home at the moment and told Yuan Che to go back to City A with Lin Wenjun first.

When he was on the phone, he was too nervous to ask, but after hanging up, he suddenly realized he'd forgotten to ask when Lin Zaishan would be back. Also, where was he supposed to go with Lin Wenjun? To Lin Zaishan's home, or Lin Wenjun's own place?

Even though they had only met once, Yuan Che really didn't have a good impression of Lin Wenjun. He dressed sloppily, acted recklessly, and smoked. Yuan Che hated the smell of smoke the most. If he had to stay at Lin Wenjun's place, that would be awful.

"Where… are we going?" After worrying about it the whole way, Yuan Che finally ventured to ask.

By then, the two had already gotten off the yacht and were sitting in a car heading toward City A. The driver in the front seat seemed to be one of Lin Wenjun's men, as silent and well-behaved as the servants at the estate. He barely spoke after closing the door for Yuan Che, driving in silence the whole way.

As for Lin Wenjun, he had been on the phone nonstop since getting in the car. He deliberately lowered and softened his voice when answering calls, making it sound extremely awkward. He had just ended a call when Yuan Che quickly interjected, afraid that if he hesitated, Lin Wenjun would dial again.

"My brother didn't tell you?" Lin Wenjun turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow, his hand still gripping the phone, seemingly ready to dial again any second.

"I forgot to ask." Yuan Che answered truthfully.

"He told me to take you to my aunt's place." Lin Wenjun replied casually, already turning away to look down and start dialing again before he even finished speaking.

"Who is your aunt?" Yuan Che pressed.

Lin Wenjun glanced at him again, his phone already pressed to his ear: "My aunt is my brother's mom."

The call connected, and Lin Wenjun immediately broke into a smile at the screen. Watching him smile so brightly beside him, Yuan Che's heart sank halfway—so the person he was about to meet was Lin Zaishan's mother.

In other words, his own mother-in-law!

In an instant, Yuan Che felt slightly dizzy.

He and Yuan Simiao had grown up with little maternal affection, so he had no idea how to interact with a woman of this age. The only middle-aged women he could think of were the teachers on the island or the household staff at home—but how could those experiences help him deal with his husband's mother?

Wait, what was he supposed to call his husband's mother?—

"Hello! Mother!"

As the door opened, he blurted out nervously and loudly to the woman who had opened it.

In front of him stood a woman in an elegant yet relaxed silk loungewear set, her hair loosely twisted up. Though she showed her age, her skin was exceptionally well-maintained, with a delicate sheen under the indoor lighting.

Yuan Che stared at her blankly for a few seconds until he realized she was staring back at him in shock. Only then did he belatedly think of saying something more: "Mother, I…"

"You're… Yuan Che?" The woman interrupted his stammering, frowning slightly as she asked tentatively.

The moment she said his name, a little firework burst in Yuan Che's heart—his husband's mother actually knew his name!

"Yes! It's me!" He looked into her eyes and nodded gently, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists.

The woman stood frozen, as if it took her several seconds to come to her senses. "You… hello. Come on in."

She pushed the door sideways, stepped back, and forced a smile, which brought out fine lines at the corners of her eyes, making her seem more real. But the smile was a bit stiff. Yuan Che didn't think much of it and returned a gentle smile before stepping inside.

"Hey, wait a minute," the woman called after him.

Yuan Che turned back in confusion, seeing her furrowing her brows at him. Before he could react, she spoke—

"Don't you… need to change your shoes?" Her eyes widened slightly, her tone surprised.

Yuan Che was taken aback. He instinctively looked down—unlike the thick woolen carpets covering the floors of the estate, the surface of this room was polished, light-colored wooden flooring.

"Do I need to change shoes here?" He asked back, a bit dazed.

Maybe his tone was too matter-of-fact, because the woman visibly paused, her forced smile fading slightly. Seeing this, Yuan Che quickly added, "Sorry, Mother! I'll change right away!"

With that, he quickly retreated to the doorway, bent over, and changed his shoes. Just then, the housekeeper brought over slippers. Yuan Che thanked her, but when he looked up, the woman was still standing there, studying him with a complex expression.

Her look wasn't harsh, but it held scrutiny, confusion, and a hint of… distaste? She tried hard to hide it, but it still seeped from the corners of her eyes and brows. Yuan Che felt deeply uncomfortable under her gaze, frozen at the doorway, not daring to move. His mind raced, trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

Before he could figure it out, the woman's gaze moved past him, scanning the empty hallway behind him. After a full sweep, she turned back and asked, "Wenjun didn't come up?"

"No," Yuan Che shook his head obediently. "He said he had plans tonight and wouldn't come for dinner."

"Did he say what he was doing?" The woman crossed her arms and walked deeper into the living room, her tone softening a bit.

"No, he didn't." Yuan Che replied, watching her back.

The woman stopped after a few steps, turned her head, and saw him still standing at the door. "Aren't you coming in?"

"Can I… come in now?" Yuan Che's voice was hesitant.

The woman paused, raising an eyebrow as if she didn't understand the question. Then she tilted her chin, motioning for him to come in. Only then did Yuan Che feel reassured enough to step inside.

This was a top-floor penthouse with an excellent view, decorated in a dark, maximalist style. The living room was filled with various ornaments, scented candles, and uniquely shaped floor lamps. When Yuan Che sat down in the center of the sofa, he felt as if he had fallen into a gorgeous yet overwhelming vortex. The evening light streamed in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting rainbow-like halos on the crystal-clear glass coffee table.

Yuan Che's gaze was drawn to those dancing specks of light, but he couldn't help thinking to himself: Is this where Lin Zaishan grew up? This… this is way too humble!

"Mr. Yuan," the helper who had handed him the slippers bent down and said softly, "dinner is ready. This way, please."

Yuan Che snapped back to reality and looked up. Was it still the same helper? He glanced around, but indeed, there was only this one. This really surprised him. Even people like Yu Yizhou, who weren't considered the wealthiest on the island, employed six servants at home. He never expected that his husband had lived such a… frugal life.

Filled with sympathy for his husband, he got up dazedly and followed the helper to the dining room. The woman was already sitting at the dining table, sipping tea and flipping through a thin novel. When she saw Yuan Che approach, she raised her eyelids slightly, one hand holding the book open, and asked flatly, "I turned around and you were gone. Why were you sitting on the sofa?"

"I thought this was the living room," Yuan Che said absentmindedly, standing next to the massive solid wood dining table.

"What?" The woman looked up at him, puzzled.

Yuan Che pursed his lips, didn't explain further, and simply stood quietly by his seat, not moving. He was waiting for someone to pull out his chair.

"We're about to eat. Aren't you going to sit?" The woman put down her book and asked again.

Yuan Che glanced behind her and noticed that the kitchen counter was only a few steps away from the table. The same helper was bustling back and forth bringing dishes, with no intention of pulling out a chair for him. He silently sighed to himself: he shouldn't expect anyone to serve him specially.

Realizing this, he had to do it himself. He pulled the dining chair back a bit and sat down.

Soon after he sat down, dishes were brought out one by one. With each dish, Yuan Che's heart sank further. He couldn't eat meat that hadn't been "purified," but looking around, several dishes were clearly meat-based. The only two vegetable dishes had shreds of meat mixed in. As for the fish dish, there was no one to debone it for him. With that thought, his appetite was completely gone.

Finally, when the last dish—a vegetable and avocado salad—was placed on the table, a glimmer of light returned to his eyes.

Once all the dishes were set, Lin Yajun closed her book and picked up her chopsticks, only to notice that Yuan Che had been staring blankly at the table full of food ever since he sat down. Out of politeness, she waited for a while, but he seemed completely lost in his own world. Sitting across from him, Lin Yajun felt her headache grow worse with every passing moment.

Earlier that morning, Lin Zaishan had called her and, in just a few words, came out to her before hanging up. She stood there, phone in hand, stunned for a long time before it dawned on her: this wasn't a discussion—it was a notification.

No one knew her own son better than she did. Lin Zaishan had always been a decisive person—from his studies to studying abroad to taking over the family business, he had always moved with clear goals and a firm hand. Ambitious in his career, he was also a man of action and never went back on his word, a perfect replica of his late father, Feng Tai. With that kind of "I answer to no one" temperament, once he made up his mind, even she, his mother, had no say in the matter.

If it were anything else, Lin Yajun wouldn't have bothered. But for her son to suddenly come out and announce he was going to marry a man was just too hard to accept. What made it even more outrageous was that this houseguest, sitting before her now, was none other than the younger brother of Lin Zaishan's "fiancée."

Her mind was a complete mess. She tried to sort it out but couldn't. When she tried to call him back, the line was busy. When she called the company and spoke to his assistant, she got the same well-rehearsed reply every time: "Sorry, Mrs. Lin, Mr. Lin is busy."

With no other option, she had to piece together information from the few fragmented words her son had left her. According to Lin Zaishan, he had actually been in a relationship with Yuan Che all along, but had been afraid she wouldn't accept it, so he kept it hidden. He ended the conversation with: "I'm leaving for a business trip right away. I'll be back at the end of the month. I'm leaving my boyfriend in your care."

The moment the call ended, Lin Yajun hurriedly asked Aunt Li to fetch her two blood pressure pills.

To be honest, even if it were Yuan Simiao, she had never really approved of her from the start. A nouveau riche from a small town—no depth, no sophistication. No matter how much money she had, what good was it?

Besides, when she was younger, she had heard more than enough gossip about the Yuan family's reputation on that island: how they acted like local tyrants, running things with an iron fist. In her social circle back then, who didn't laugh at them, discuss them as gossip? Who would have thought that, now in her old age, she would end up actually forming a marital alliance with those "bandits"?

But there was no help for it. Her son had been stubbornly determined to marry that "bandit's" daughter, like a man possessed. She had spent over a month mentally preparing herself before reluctantly gritting her teeth and accepting—though even that acceptance was watered down. Mainly because she was a woman who cared deeply about saving face; everywhere she went, she was treated with respect and flattery. If her son were to marry a wife with such a background, wouldn't that be throwing away all the face she had built up over half a lifetime to the ground?

In the end, she couldn't get past it emotionally. But she couldn't be too firm with her son either, so she turned a blind eye, occasionally pretending to ask about the wedding progress to keep up appearances.

And now look—the situation was even worse than she'd feared. She hadn't met the "bandit's" daughter; instead, the "bandit's" son had come straight into her home. The moment she opened the door, she was taken aback—this young man was extraordinarily handsome, but no matter how handsome, he was still a man!

With his height and build, he had to be at least six feet tall, standing there at the door. As handsome as he was, it still made her vision go black. Then he uttered that "Mom," and the already cold candle in her heart sputtered and died.

Across the dining table, the young man, silent until now, suddenly looked up, his clear eyes fixed on her. "Mom," he said, "where's my husband?"

The next second, Lin Yajun's chopsticks clattered to the floor with a clatter.