Chapter 57: Is That All?

Xin's mother shot a glare at Xin's father, her dissatisfaction clear. Unlike him, she truly cared for Xin Gan, especially as Xin Gan's face was flushed—her skin must have been damaged, and she had lost weight. She was thin to begin with, and now not a trace of flesh remained.

“Have you eaten? Let me cook something for you, fill your belly,” Xin's mother said, not waiting for a reply as she got up and went to the kitchen. Xin Gan tried to stop her, but Xin's mother insisted she stay seated and wait.

Xin Gan saw her mother turn and wipe the corner of her eye, and it pained her deeply. She hadn’t expected her mother to worry so much. But it was understandable—her face looked quite bad, and after several visits to the hospital in Beiyu, the ointments hadn’t helped at all. The environment only worsened her allergic reaction.

Xin's father poured her a glass of warm water, pondering for a moment before asking, “Anywhere else uncomfortable?”

“No, just some skin allergy, nothing else,” Xin Gan replied.

“I heard from your mother that you were sick. Was it serious?”

“Not serious.” It was mild, just recurring, but she didn’t mention more, not wanting him to worry.

Hearing this, Xin's father’s expression grew even more serious. He waved his hand dismissively. “Your voice sounds rough. If you’re really unwell, tell your mother. Don’t keep quiet. Go to the hospital if needed. Don’t let it drag on—what’s minor can become serious.”

Xin's father was never one to joke, even when concerned for Xin Gan. His words and demeanor remained stern, never smiling.

He had always been strict, and Xin Gan was somewhat afraid of him, especially during those early years abroad. When she called home in tears, begging not to stay in London, it was always her father who scolded her harshly. Since then, she had grown fearful.

“I understand,” Xin Gan said.

“Sit here for a bit. I’ll go help your mother.”

Before leaving, he placed the cup of warm water before her, then went to the kitchen to assist.

As he entered, he heard Xin's mother’s quiet sobs. Soup simmered on the stove, a broth the housekeeper kept ready in the fridge because Xin Gan liked soup. If she was home, the housekeeper would always prepare different soups for her.

“Why are you here? Where’s Xin Xin?” Xin's mother asked, hastily wiping her tears, caught off guard.

Xin's father gently embraced her shoulders. “Xin Xin is sitting in the living room.”

Xin's mother sighed deeply. “If I’d known things would turn out like this, I wouldn’t have let Xin Xin go to Beiyu.”

“It’s done now, no point in saying that. Once Xin Xin’s rested, we’ll arrange a meal with the Cheng family.”

Deep down, she had reservations about the marriage; after all, Xin Gan was her only daughter, her own flesh and blood. But her words held no sway—the decision was her father-in-law’s.

Xin's mother made a bowl of soup noodles, but Xin Gan had no appetite. She ate only a little before laying down her chopsticks.

Seeing her exhaustion, Xin's mother said, “Full? Go wash up and sleep, don’t worry about anything else.”

Xin Gan agreed.

Xin's father carried her luggage upstairs to her room. Before leaving, he said, “Rest well. Tomorrow, join your mother for morning tea.”

With that, he went downstairs.

Xin Gan felt drained, closed her door and finally let her weariness show. She sighed in relief, took pajamas from the wardrobe and went to shower.

Looking in the mirror, her allergy hadn’t improved. She remembered the ointment Cheng Jiu had given her, wrapped herself in a towel, found it in her suitcase, and applied a little once her face was dry. It felt cool, nothing more.

A last resort—who knew when her skin would heal.

After drying her hair, she lay in bed to sleep.

Her first night home was restless.

The next morning, Xin's mother knocked gently on her door, calling her name several times. Hearing Xin Gan’s response, she entered to find Xin Gan curled under the quilt, her flushed face barely visible.

“You little lazybones, still not awake? The sun’s up!” she said softly.

Xin Gan murmured sleepily, barely opening her eyes. “Morning, Mom.”

“Morning? Look at the time. Did you stay up late again?” Xin's mother stroked her hair lovingly. “Come on, your father’s downstairs. Get ready, the three of us are going for morning tea.”

Xin Gan managed to wake up, wobbling as she got out of bed, still half asleep.

Her mother laughed at her groggy state, her mood brightened by her daughter’s return—she only had Xin Gan, and doted on her.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Xin Gan was fully awake.

Xin's father was already waiting at the villa entrance.

Xin Gan wore no makeup—her skin was still bad. She changed clothes and went downstairs with her mother.

The rare occasion of all three together for morning tea delighted Xin's mother most.

Xin's father remained stoic, unmoved.

He hadn’t gone to work today, surprising Xin Gan. In her eyes, he was a workaholic, always at the office, even on holidays, unmoved by anyone’s words. But that was years ago, things had improved recently. Her mother said it was age—his eyes couldn’t handle all the data anymore, but he refused to admit it.

Her mother didn’t spare him, and Xin's father coughed into his fist, hinting she should give him some dignity before their daughter.

At the restaurant, Xin's mother had booked a private room, so they were led in by a waiter. Xin Gan wore a hat, walking ahead with her mother, Xin's father strolling behind, hands clasped behind his back.

Before reaching the room, they turned a corner and bumped into Mrs. Cheng, who immediately recognized them and greeted them warmly.

“What a coincidence! You’re here for morning tea, too?”

“Yes, Xin Xin’s back, so we’re having a family gathering, welcoming her home.”

Mrs. Cheng quickly noticed Xin Gan, her eyes widening as she took Xin Gan’s hand, smiling broadly. “So this is Xin Xin! What a transformation—more beautiful than ever. Come, let’s join tables. It’s fate! Let me get to know my future daughter-in-law better, what do you say?”

Xin's mother replied promptly, “Qing, since you say so, it would be rude to refuse. Let’s go to your side.”

“Let’s.”

Xin Gan sat very upright, pulled to Mrs. Cheng’s side, with her mother on the right. Xin's father took no interest in the women’s conversation, sitting woodenly, unable to join in. The table was full of women, and Mrs. Cheng’s attention was all on Xin Gan.

Mrs. Cheng patted Xin Gan’s hand, observing her for a while. “Xin Xin, last night when you returned, Cheng Jiu’s father told me. It was late, so we didn’t visit, but we wanted to arrange a meal for both families. Old Cheng said you just got back, should rest a few days. But what luck to meet you all today—fate, indeed!”

Xin Gan smiled politely. “My parents hadn’t seen me in a long time, so we came out for morning tea. I didn’t expect to meet you here, Auntie.”

“That ‘Auntie’ sounds so formal, but it’s too soon to have you call me ‘Mother-in-law’ since Cheng Jiu isn’t back yet. By the way, Old Cheng said your skin got allergic from the sun. I know a dermatology specialist, decades of experience. I’ll arrange for him to take a look for you sometime.”

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine after a few days’ rest.”

“Xin Xin, this is your Auntie Cheng’s goodwill. Don’t be shy. If she didn’t mention it, I’d have found a doctor myself,” Xin's mother interjected, knowing Xin Gan was uncomfortable and smoothing things over.

Mrs. Cheng agreed, “Exactly, I know a doctor. Don’t worry, we’ll have you back to your radiant self.”

Xin Gan didn’t refuse further. “Thank you, Auntie Cheng.”

Mrs. Cheng was still dissatisfied with the title, frowning playfully. “Makes me wish Cheng Jiu would marry you right away. Your mother is lucky to have such a clever, beautiful daughter. Too bad my girl is a tomboy, wild as can be.”

When Cheng Hui was mentioned, Xin's mother asked, “So why are you alone for tea today, Mrs. Cheng?”

Mrs. Cheng waved it off. “Don’t ask. Cheng Hui was just here, then suddenly said her friend needed her, and left me behind. But Xin Xin is wonderful, the more I look, the more I like her. No wonder Cheng Jiu called last night to say he’d finish his work and come back, then settle everything with Xin Xin—get the certificate, get married.”

Xin's mother hadn’t expected Cheng Jiu to say that. “Well, their relationship is steady, so it’s time to finalize things.”

Mrs. Cheng nodded. “Indeed. By the way, when are you free, dear in-law? We should arrange a formal family meal soon.”

Xin's father asked, “Speaking of which, when is Cheng Jiu coming back?”

“He said it’ll be another month or two, but it’s hard to say. His work is unpredictable. But rest assured, he’ll come as soon as he’s finished.”

Xin's father said nothing more.

Xin Gan, meanwhile, had no say in the matter. Everyone assumed the marriage was settled; her opinion didn’t matter.

The meal lasted a long while. Xin's mother and Mrs. Cheng got along like old friends, chatting about countless topics. Xin's father couldn’t join in, nor did he try, simply eating in silence.

A dignified company boss, ignored by two women, his presence barely felt.

Xin Gan smiled quietly, then glimpsed a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye. She looked again, but saw nothing at the door—perhaps she imagined it.

Later, after returning from the restroom, she saw clearly who it was.

He was He Cheng.

He Cheng was dressed casually, wearing a hat, talking on the phone with irritation, cursing the other party before hanging up. He turned and spotted Xin Gan.

His gaze felt like that of a venomous snake. Xin Gan clenched her fists, looked away, and deliberately walked in the opposite direction, not wanting to speak or greet him.

He Cheng strode over, blocking her path, smiling with dazzling teeth—sunny and handsome, but only on the surface.

“You’re back? When did you get back? Why didn’t you say hello?”

Xin Gan’s face was cool, forced to stop. “Do you need something?”

“Plenty,” He Cheng grinned. “Xin Xin, still angry? I’m not angry, but you are—it’s not fair.”

Xin Gan looked at his smiling face. “Can you move aside?”

“No,” he refused at once.

Xin Gan pressed her lips, looked away, and tried to walk around him.

He Cheng followed, pestering her.

Xin Gan remembered her parents and Mrs. Cheng were nearby and didn’t want a scene. People passed by, watching them, their stares like needles. She stopped again, frowning. “Are you finished yet?”

“No,” He Cheng said.

The elevator arrived, and Xin Gan hurried toward it.

Just as the doors were about to close, Xin Gan turned, but a force at her waist pulled her back—it was He Cheng, who squeezed in and prevented the doors from closing. He hugged her from behind, an arm firmly around her waist, lifting her out of the elevator. She watched the doors shut.

He Cheng was tall, and lifting Xin Gan, barely ninety-five pounds, was effortless.

Xin Gan struggled desperately, trying to pry his arm off, but it didn’t budge. He Cheng laughed, “Waste of effort. If you could break free, would I still be a man? Xin Xin, behave—keep me company, and if I’m happy, I’ll let you go.”

Finally, Xin Gan cursed, “You bastard, let me go—or I’ll call the police!”

“If you can manage that, I’ll take your surname today.”

Xin Gan didn’t know where he was taking her. Her parents and Cheng Jiu’s mother were nearby, and she feared being seen. She softened, pleading, “He Cheng, can’t you let go? We can talk, but if people see you holding me like this, what will they think?”

He Cheng narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you anymore, Xin Xin.”

Xin Gan was nearly in tears, panic rising in her voice. “He Cheng, you’re no better than those scumbags.”

He Cheng was stunned, then turned into a private room, pushing her inside. Men and women of all kinds were playing.

This was clearly not a place for morning tea—it was nearing noon, and He Cheng had gathered a group here to party.

Once the door closed, He Cheng released Xin Gan. The group whistled, teasing, “He Cheng, where’d you snatch this pretty lady from?”

He Cheng dragged Xin Gan to a seat. She refused to sit, so he threatened, “If you don’t sit, I’ll just hold you.”

Xin Gan gritted her teeth and sat in silence.

Many eyes flickered between He Cheng and her, trying to figure out their relationship. He Cheng lit a cigarette and barked, “What are you staring at? Watching a monkey? Mind your own business.”

“Don’t be angry, He Cheng, we’re just curious—who is she?” someone dared to ask. The rest fell silent.

He Cheng squinted at him. “This woman? Is that how you address her?”

He realized his mistake and quickly apologized, “Sorry, brother, no offense—just curious.”

He Cheng snorted, lit a cigarette, and looked at Xin Gan. “Xin Xin, what do you want to eat? Order anything.”

“I’m not hungry,” Xin Gan replied.

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

He Cheng bit his cigarette. “Do you miss me?”

Xin Gan frowned impatiently. “Are you done yet?”

He Cheng laughed, not angry, but coaxing, “Look at you, frowning and wrinkling your face. Wait, why is your face so red?”

He reached out, and Xin Gan instinctively dodged. “I don’t have time for your games, He Cheng.”

“Why?” He Cheng lost patience—being snubbed before so many people, when he was extremely proud. Xin Gan gave him no face, so he stopped trying, suddenly kicking a chair, nearly spilling the drinks.

His face was dark, and he shouted at everyone, “What are you staring at? Still hanging around? Want to see me embarrassed? Get out—all of you!”

In a flash, everyone scattered.

Soon, only the two of them remained. Xin Gan said, “He Cheng, you know what you did. I don’t want to contact you, I don’t want anything to do with you. The past is over; I won’t mention it, and you shouldn’t look for me.”

“I just made one mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. Would forgiving me kill you?”

Xin Gan knew talking to him was pointless—the hurt he’d caused was too great. She stayed silent.

…

Xin Gan had been gone a long time. Xin's mother grew uneasy and asked Xin's father, “Why is Xin Xin gone so long?”

Mrs. Cheng reassured her, “Don’t worry. She’s an adult. If she’s away this long, she’s probably making a call or bumped into someone she knows. No need to worry.”

“But this is too long…” Xin's mother was uneasy. “I’ll call her.”

She dialed, and Xin Gan’s phone rang at her seat.

She hadn’t brought her phone.

…

Xin Gan felt her pocket and realized she’d forgotten her phone.

He Cheng was agitated, standing, staring at her. “I was just impulsive—a teenager—did some bad things with your photos, that’s all. Is it worth this?”

Xin Gan laughed, her tone tinged with mockery. “You only did some bad things, is that it?”