Chapter 211 Unpredictable

The third one.

Every movement was performed with utmost devotion.

"grandmother."

She finally spoke, her voice choked and trembling, her eyes already brimming with tears that silently streamed down her cheeks.

Those long-buried memories are now surging forth like a tidal wave—

She remembers hiding behind the stove to secretly eat sweet cakes when she was little. When her grandmother found out, she didn't scold her, but just smiled and wiped her mouth.

I remember when I had a fever on a rainy night, my grandmother carried me for ten miles along a muddy road to the clinic.

I remember being bullied in high school. My grandma came to the school on her cane, stood at the classroom door without saying a word, but she intimidated everyone...

She is an adopted granddaughter, an orphan who was brought to live with her.

But Grandma never treated her differently because of this.

She used all her strength to hide her true identity and gave her a complete family.

Even when faced with opposition from her own children, she firmly declared, "This is my daughter, and no one can touch her!"

Song Zhiwei took a deep breath, her chest heaving.

The stone that had weighed on her for so long, almost crushing her spine, finally loosened, crumbled, and dissipated little by little in this tranquil twilight.

"Thank you, Grandma."

She whispered, tears streaming down her face, "I'm sorry... I was too scared to come. But I'm back. I'm fine, I'm doing well."

The late summer breeze gently blew by, ruffling her black hair and brushing past the lilies in front of the tombstone, their leaves swaying slightly as if in response to her words.

A few birdsongs drifted from afar, melodious and clear.

It seemed as if someone in the distance had indeed responded softly.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

Sheng Tingzhou stood quietly not far away, gazing at her thin figure from afar.

He approached her after she got up and gently wiped away the tear stains remaining at the corner of her eyes with his thumb.

The movements were as gentle as if afraid of breaking a precious jewel.

Then, without saying anything, he bent down and picked her up in his arms.

Song Zhiwei exclaimed "Ah!" and subconsciously wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheeks flushing.

"Sheng Tingzhou! I can walk by myself..."

"Don't move."

He interrupted in a low, husky but firm voice, "Let me hold you."

He walked steadily away from the cemetery, each step firm and powerful.

Back in the car, he carefully placed her in the passenger seat, fastened her seatbelt, leaned down, and kissed her without hesitation.

Lips and teeth intertwined, tender and affectionate.

It was like a reassurance, a promise, and even more like a declaration—

In this lifetime, it's my turn to protect you.

The movements were very light and gentle, as if afraid of breaking something.

The moment his lips touched hers, he seemed to slow his breathing, as if afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the moment.

He gently brushed her hair with his fingertips, his eyes filled with pity and reluctance, as if he were handling a rare treasure, afraid that the slightest bit of force would awaken her from the tenderness before him.

After kissing her, he couldn't help but bite her earlobe again, his voice low: "Rest well, don't overwork yourself."

That light bite didn't hurt, but it carried a hint of intimacy and possessiveness, like a silent declaration.

His words fell into her ears, low and husky, like the rustling of leaves in a night breeze, so gentle that it was almost intoxicating.

After saying that, he reached out and adjusted her collar, his movements meticulous and revealing an irresistible tenderness.

By the time we arrived at Blue Bay, it was already completely dark.

The car headlights pierced the thick darkness of the night, and the shadows of the trees on both sides swayed in the wind, like silent guardians.

The sea surface in the distance shimmered with a faint silver light, and the sea breeze carried a salty, damp scent.

The villa area was quiet and still, with only the streetlights casting a dim yellow glow on the path leading to the gate.

As soon as the iron gate opened, Cheng Lanlan rushed out and pounced on the car: "Yanyan! Come in quickly! The food is ready!"

She was wearing a loose-fitting loungewear sweater and fluffy slippers, her cheeks slightly flushed with excitement.

Her hair was casually tied into a ponytail, with a few stray strands sticking to her forehead, making her look both energetic and adorable.

She flung open the back door, her eyes sparkling as if they held a whole galaxy, eager to pull Song Zhiwei into her home.

She knew it was all part of their plan, but during the days Song Zhiwei was taken away, she couldn't even sleep soundly.

Every night, when all is quiet, she would wake up suddenly, her heart pounding, and the image of Song Zhiwei's disappearance would keep flashing through her mind.

She dialed Song Zhiwei's number repeatedly, but always received a message that the call could not be connected.

She even secretly dug out Song Zhiwei's old photos and looked at them over and over again, as if that would confirm that she was still alive.

During that period, her anxiety clung to her heart like vines, suffocating her.

She only breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the news that Song Xiaoxiao had died, as if a stone had finally been lifted from her chest.

That day she was sitting on the sofa in the living room, and breaking news was playing on the TV.

When the subtitle "Song Xiaoxiao was shot dead by the police while on the run" appeared, she froze for a few seconds, then suddenly covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face silently.

She wasn't saddened by Song Xiaoxiao's situation, but rather relieved that Song Zhiwei was finally out of danger.

At that moment, she felt lighter, as if a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

Song Zhiwei was amused and almost laughed: "What kind of feast is it? Why so mysterious?"

Looking at Cheng Lanlan's mysterious yet smug expression, she couldn't help but smile.

Her eyes curved slightly at the corners, as gentle as crescent moons.

As she unbuckled her seatbelt, she tilted her head to sized up Cheng Lanlan: "Did you specially hire a Michelin chef?"

She had just eaten in the car, but it seems her appetite has changed since she got pregnant; she always wants to eat something else.

She had eaten half a piece of cake and a cup of hot milk just half an hour ago, but as soon as she got off the bus, she felt empty in her stomach.

The hunger wasn't intense, but it lingered, like some kind of instinctive call.

She herself couldn't understand why pregnancy made her body so unpredictable.

They can't keep their mouths shut.

She unconsciously licked her lips, her fingers gently stroking her lower abdomen, where a small, growing life was quietly developing.

She suddenly craved both sour and spicy foods, but was afraid it would be bad for the fetus, so she had to endure it, though her heart was itching like a cat was scratching.

"A nutritional meal for pregnant women!"

Cheng Lanlan pulled her inside.

She spoke lightly, shaking Song Zhiwei's arm as they walked, as if afraid she might change her mind.

The crystal chandelier in the corridor cast a soft light, illuminating the two of them and casting long shadows.

A fragrant aroma wafted from the kitchen, the richness of chicken soup and the sweetness of stew, making one's mouth water.

Song Zhiwei was initially quite looking forward to it, but once she entered the restaurant and saw the table full of dishes, she immediately lost her enthusiasm.

She had expected some novel combination or her favorite flavor, but what she saw was a "plain white".

In the center of the table was a three-tiered steamer, with seven or eight porcelain bowls and plates beside it. Each dish looked exquisite, yet it lacked any sense of everyday life.

Fish maw, bird's nest, stewed chicken, steamed fish...

The soup was clear and bright, the meat was tender and white, and even the side dishes were shredded carrots and green vegetable hearts, neatly arranged on the plate, like exhibits from a chef's competition.

A faint aroma of medicinal herbs filled the air, clearly indicating the addition of tonics such as goji berries and astragalus.