In the café, Jin Zhao sat for a while longer with Jin Wenyi and her husband.

It was an ordinary café, neither too crowded nor too empty. Soft music played in the background, and at the counter, a college student was holding a group-buy voucher, asking the clerk to redeem it.

Having the amount settled was a good thing, but Jin Wenyi still felt weighed down.

Eight million wasn’t enough. Ideally speaking, even if all the money from selling the house were returned, there would still be a shortfall of two million.

Seeing how, over the past month or so, Jin Wenyi’s hair had visibly turned much whiter, worrying both about her older brother and about her parents, while also feeling guilty toward Jin Zhao, stuck between all sides and pleasing no one, Zhao Xu felt both helpless and heartbroken. He took the initiative to suggest, “How about we don’t buy a house for Zhao Yifan for now, and get through this hurdle first.”

Jin Wenyi fell silent for a moment, then gently nodded.

Jin Zhao looked at the wig on her aunt’s head.

The wig looked unnatural; it was obvious at a glance. She had asked her aunt before why she wore a wig, and Jin Wenyi had said that her hair had turned white a lot—white hair looked tiring, and black hair made one look more energetic. Jin Zhao didn’t know how much of her aunt’s hair had turned white, but she could imagine how much worry she must have borne.

Jin Wenyi was actually a person of deep feeling and loyalty. Back then, when their grandparents’ family circumstances weren’t well-off, Jin Wenhui, who had entered society earlier, paid part of Jin Wenyi’s college tuition for her. Jin Wenyi had remembered this kindness all these years, and whenever her older brother had trouble, she would always help with all her strength. True, her affection for this niece was partly an extension of that, but at every crucial point—changing schools, the college entrance examination—Jin Wenyi had put in thought and effort, and in the years Jin Zhao spent in the UK, it was also Jin Wenyi who would check on her from time to time, asking after her well-being.

Jin Zhao didn’t want Jin Wenyi to be in such a difficult position.

“There’s no rush. The court’s judgment isn’t out yet,” Jin Zhao said. “After some time, I’ll go see Grandpa and Grandma again.”

Her grandparents hadn’t told the truth—how much marital property her mother actually had, she didn’t know either. She had been too young back then; even this apartment was something she had half-guessed, half-bluffed out. But judging from her grandparents’ expressions that day, there was definitely more.

And Jin Wenyi, as the two elders’ daughter, could naturally see it even more clearly, but she couldn’t say it.

A group of college students sat down at the table next to them—three girls, lively and noisy, giggling as they crowded together to take photos. Before long, one of the girls started a video call with her mother, telling her where she had gone, what she had seen, what she had eaten. Since she was out with her roommates, they didn’t chat for long before hanging up, but the other two girls still let out an “eh,” unable to tell whether it was envy or confusion: “You and your mom are so close. You’re out having fun and still video-calling your mom—are you even an adult?”

The girl laughed and said, “So what if I’m an adult? Does being an adult mean I can’t miss my mom? Even when I’m old, I’ll still miss my mom.”

Jin Zhao turned to look at them.

Jin Wenyi heard it too, and suddenly her eyes reddened.

It was as if people became numb over time. When Jin Zhao’s mother passed away, Jin Zhao had still been very young. In that first year, Jin Wenyi had been the one who pitied Jin Zhao the most. But later, as time passed, the sister-in-law changed, and everyone naturally got used to it, and took it for granted that Jin Zhao had gotten used to it too. Yet at this moment, Jin Wenyi suddenly wondered—had Jin Zhao really gotten used to it?

Jin Zhao had been very close with her mother as a child. Over all these years, did she often think of her mother? During her college years, when she saw her roommates video-calling their parents, what had she been thinking? When she felt wronged, who had she been telling?

“Lingling, I’m sorry,” Jin Wenyi murmured softly.

She didn’t actually know what she was apologizing for—whether it was for dragging her into the mess, or for helping her parents and older brother keep things hidden.

Jin Zhao turned back and saw the moisture in Jin Wenyi’s eyes.

She smiled. “No need to apologize. I understand it all. Everyone has their difficulties. You’ve already done your best.”

Jin Wenyi’s lips trembled lightly as she asked in return, “Then what about your difficulties? All these years, you’ve always been understanding toward others, but you’ve never once told me about your own difficulties.”

Jin Zhao’s fingers unconsciously curled inward. Very quickly, she said, “You might not believe it, but even now, I’ve never blamed you. I just feel a bit regretful.”

Jin Wenyi asked softly, “Regretful about what?”

Jin Zhao: “Regretful that my mom is gone.”

She was human too. When no one knew, of course she would feel sad that Jin Wenyi’s kindness toward her was limited and conditional—but what could she do about it? Jin Wenyi was only her aunt; in the end, she had no obligation to be good to her. The one-of-a-kind love and protection she wanted—at the moment her mother left, she had already lost them completely.

Jin Wenyi’s tears fell in a rush, and she quickly turned her head away.

Zhao Xu patted her shoulder and pulled out a tissue, handing it to her.

“I’m sorry…” Jin Wenyi choked.

It was unclear whether she was apologizing for her own loss of composure, or apologizing to Jin Zhao.

“You don’t need to go see Grandpa and Grandma. I’ll go,” Jin Wenyi said at last.

After seeing Jin Wenyi and Zhao Xu off, Jin Zhao stood by the roadside for a while.

After those days of continuous spring rain, the past few days had brought back beautiful sunshine. Along this entire street were old houses with red brick walls; cherry blossoms bloomed beneath the walls, turning the road pink all the way.

Her phone chimed once. Jin Zhao took it out to look.

Meng Yanxi: 【Where are you? I’m on the way anyway, I’ll come pick you up.】

The corners of Jin Zhao’s lips curved instantly.

A gust of wind blew toward her, carrying an irresistible sense of vitality in the air—like a youth who, the moment he appears, brings daylight, piercing through the gloom.

“You don’t even know where I am—what ‘on the way’?” Jin Zhao replied with a laugh, using voice message.

After sending it, the phone went quiet. She didn’t know if someone was reflecting on the loophole in his logic.

Jin Zhao wasn’t in a hurry either, strolling leisurely beneath the cherry trees.

There weren’t many cars or people on this street; it was very quiet. She could hear the sound of car tires rolling over the road behind her. Jin Zhao moved a little to the side, but the sound kept following her.

She turned her head and, through the lowered passenger-side window, met Meng Yanxi’s half-smiling peach-blossom eyes.

Not far ahead, a new Mixue Ice Cream & Tea shop was opening, and its addictive jingle suddenly rang out at that moment—

“You love me, I love you, Mixue Ice Cream & Tea, sweet as can be.”

“How are you here?” Jin Zhao asked in delight.

Meng Yanxi parked the car, tilted his head, and said arrogantly, “Didn’t I tell you? On the way.”

Jin Zhao smiled with lifted lips, pulled open the passenger door, and got in.

“Where’s Little Tuanzi?” she asked naturally.

There had still been a smile in Meng Yanxi’s eyes, but at that, it disappeared.

He said in a neither-warm-nor-cold tone, “In the way. Threw it out.”

Jin Zhao: “…”

Jin Zhao said sincerely, “Meng Yanxi, you’ve had quite a big issue with the baby lately.”

Meng Yanxi dragged out his tone as he asked in return, “Are you sure I’ve had quite a big issue with the baby?”

Jin Zhao fell silent.

“Where to?” Meng Yanxi asked.

Jin Zhao: “Let’s go home.”

Meng Yanxi reminded her coldly, “Little Tuanzi’s been sent to my dad’s place. Even if you rush back, you won’t see him.”

Jin Zhao: “Why did you send the baby away?”

Meng Yanxi didn’t say a word. She didn’t know what about that sentence had annoyed him, but the man’s jawline was drawn tight, making him look very aloof.

Jin Zhao blinked and said, “Then let’s go to Dad’s place.”

Meng Yanxi: “……”

“Jin Zhao, do you still remember what our cat is called?” Meng Yanxi suddenly asked.

“1119, right? What about it?”

Meng Yanxi’s eyes were pitch-dark. “Why is it called 1119?”

Jin Zhao: “……” Who does this—throwing in a pop quiz every now and then?

Amused and helpless, Jin Zhao said, “Because November 19 is the day we got together.”

Meng Yanxi said, “From November 19 the year before last until now, it hasn’t even been a year and a half. We’re still in the honeymoon phase.”

Meeting his dissatisfied gaze, Jin Zhao deliberately let out an “eh” and asked back, “Is the honeymoon phase really that long? Isn’t it usually just a few months?”

Meng Yanxi gave a “snort-laugh” and said pointedly, “I don’t know which heartless person has a honeymoon phase that lasts only a few months.”

He turned his head and stared at her. “But with me, it’s at least ten years of being in love.”

Ten years of being in love.

The wind stirred the cherry trees by the roadside, and pale pink petals drifted lightly through the open car window, landing in Jin Zhao’s hand.

Jin Zhao closed her palm, and all of a sudden, she was already looking forward to next year’s blossoms.

“I was lying to you,” she laughed softly. “We’re not going home, and we’re not going to Dad’s place either.”

Meng Yanxi raised his brow. In an instant, light returned to his eyes.

Jin Zhao: “I remember what day it is today.”

Today was Meng Yanxi’s birthday.

She didn’t know what he’d been thinking—to actually assume she’d forgotten, and then run over in grievance to remind her. Waiting outside the café, going out of his way with all those roundabout hints.

“You messed up all my surprises,” she muttered, not without complaint.

Meng Yanxi came back to life, took her hand, and said, “No surprises. I’ve already thought of the gift myself, you just have to give it.”

Who celebrates their birthday like this? Even last year’s birthday present had been something he’d asked for himself.

Jin Zhao: “Then what do you want?”

Meng Yanxi turned mysterious again and didn’t say anything, starting the car with evident enthusiasm.

Meng Yanxi drove Jin Zhao to a pottery studio—one of those places that provides clay, tools, and professional guidance, allowing customers to make handicrafts on the spot.

Jin Zhao thought that even now, Meng Yanxi was still brooding over the clay-painted figurine doll she had given Meng Zhuxi back then, and that he insisted she make another one for him. Helplessly, she lifted a hand to her forehead. “That was so many years ago.”

Meng Yanxi: “What?”

Jin Zhao glanced at the finished clay-painted pieces displayed in the experience area and asked, “Aren’t you here because you want me to pinch a clay figurine doll for you?”

Meng Yanxi froze for a moment, then laughed as he asked back, “You’ve already given me a real baby—what would I still want a clay doll for? And you even lied saying you couldn’t pinch one. Isn’t this pinched pretty well?”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Thinking about it, their little milk dumpling was far cuter than any clay figurine doll.

“Then what do you want now?”

Although she truly had no talent when it came to handicrafts, since this person had asked for it himself, it wasn’t like she couldn’t struggle a bit.

She rolled up her sleeves, but Meng Yanxi pressed them down and said, “No need—you don’t have to. I’ll do it.”

He took the apron the shop assistant handed over.

Meng Yanxi didn’t know whether he was naturally quick at learning anything or if he had practiced here before. The pottery wheel turned gently, and the deep umber clay flowed between his well-defined fingers. His movements were skillful; his fingertips brushed the wall of the clay, leaving delicate textures. Before long, the rough shape of a cup gradually emerged.

Jin Zhao thought his desire to perform had kicked in again—just like when he was drunk and insisted on showing her his crunches. She consciously took out her phone to film him, constantly finding different angles, occasionally providing emotional support with praise. Meng Yanxi remained aloof and ignored her, to the point that Jin Zhao didn’t even know what he was trying to do today.

After two hours, Meng Yanxi made a cup. It was a plain cup, unglazed, presenting a natural, rustic color. He placed it into Jin Zhao’s hands. “For you.”

The clay cup was heavy, full of weight. Jin Zhao asked blankly, “Isn’t it your birthday? Why are you giving me a cup?”

Meng Yanxi looked arrogant. “You think you can get out of this? Of course you still have to give me a gift. This is my return gift.”

“The return gift’s already been given first… looks like I can’t refuse anymore.” Jin Zhao nodded. “Alright, go on.”

Meng Yanxi’s expression suddenly turned serious. His pitch-black peach blossom eyes fixed steadily on her as he said, “Lingling, give me a promise.”

Jin Zhao: “What?”

Meng Yanxi: “Promise me that in the future, when something happens, you won’t exclude me. Don’t be afraid to show weakness in front of me. I’m not just someone you nod to in passing—I’m your husband, the person who, for this lifetime, will always and only choose you without hesitation, and protect you without reservation.”

This pottery studio had an excellent orientation. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the experience area was a courtyard. At this hour, sunlight poured down, the wind stirred the leaves, and fragments of light rippled.

Perhaps this person had booked out the entire shop—there wasn’t a single person around, and the shop assistants were nowhere to be seen. The pottery pieces placed indoors were quiet and unadorned; light streamed in from outside, and the air carried a warm sense of returning to simplicity.

Jin Zhao lifted her face to look at Meng Yanxi. In his eyes, there was only her; behind him was a wash of pale golden light.

“If something happens, tell me, and I’ll handle it. That isn’t weakness.” Meng Yanxi paused, then said in a low voice, “It’s that you love me.”