Chapter 188 Moral Kidnapping

His movements were light and his expression calm, but it was this calmness that, like a thorn, pierced the hearts of everyone present.

All of this was simply because Qiao Wanyin had just whispered, "This chives smell a bit strong; I haven't been feeling well lately."

No one expected that a casual remark would cause such a stir.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Song Yazhi's voice trembled with anger, "For a woman, you don't even know what's important?"

Her finger suddenly pointed at Fu Lian, her fingertip trembling.

An expression of disbelief appeared on his face, as if he had witnessed something utterly outrageous.

Her voice suddenly rose in pitch, making the air in the dining room seem to freeze.

"I spent the whole afternoon making dumplings, and you won't even try them because she said she didn't like them? Is this how you show filial piety or make me angry?"

She became more and more agitated as she spoke, her chest heaving violently, and even her breathing became rapid.

Fang Wanyu quickly chimed in, "Brother Maidong, which family doesn't make leek filling? Who would have thought Sister Wanyin would be so particular?"

As she spoke, she secretly glanced at Qiao Wanyin, her tone deliberately gentle, yet unable to conceal the underlying sarcasm.

Her lips curled up slightly, but she pretended to be nonchalant as she lowered her head, picked up a piece of food with her chopsticks, and put it in her mouth. Her chewing movements seemed particularly deliberate.

"Besides, chives are so fragrant and nourishing. Who doesn't eat them during the New Year and other holidays? Sister Wanyin might have a delicate stomach, so let's be understanding."

After she finished speaking, she sighed softly, as if she were trying to exonerate Qiao Wanyin, but in reality, every word she uttered was like a needle, piercing the heart and causing pain.

Just as Fu Li'an was about to retort, Qiao Wanyin gently tugged at his sleeve.

Her hand moved very lightly, almost silently, but Fu Lian seemed to be electrocuted, instantly stopping the words that were about to come out.

He turned his head and saw her slightly pale lips and the pleading look in her eyes.

She didn't say anything, but her eyes told him: Don't argue, it's not worth it.

At that moment, he choked up and swallowed back all his explanations.

He knew she was taking the blame for him, bearing the responsibility that should have been his.

She understood all too well that the more he spoke up for her, the more her mother-in-law would hate her.

Qiao Wanyin felt as if something was pressing down on her heart, making it almost impossible to breathe.

She knew Song Yazhi's temperament well—strong-willed, sensitive, and intolerant of any questioning.

Especially in front of Fu Lian, she would not allow anyone to "steal" her son's attention.

If Fu Li'an were to stand up for her now, it would only make Song Yazhi think that she was trying to sow discord between mother and son.

Once such a misunderstanding is sown, it grows wildly like weeds and is difficult to eradicate.

She gently shook her head at him, signaling with her eyes that he should stop talking.

Her gaze was light, yet it carried an undeniable firmness.

Her eyelashes trembled slightly, like butterfly wings fluttering in the wind.

She dared not speak, for fear that if she made a sound, she would lose control of her emotions.

She simply shook her head with all her might, forcing a faint smile at the corner of her lips, as if to say, "It's okay, I understand."

Her hand remained gently resting on Fu Lian'an's sleeve, without withdrawing it, as if it were a silent comfort, or a silent dependence.

"Mom, please don't be angry."

Qiao Wanyin stood up and reached for the plate of dumplings. "Mai Dong, are you tired today? Let me heat them up for you."

Her voice was soft, deliberately calm, as if afraid of disturbing something.

She stood up slowly and her steps were a little unsteady, but she still tried to keep her face calm.

She reached out to take the plate of steaming dumplings, but just as her fingertips touched the edge of the plate, she was violently pushed away.

"You don't need to pretend to be kind here!"

Song Yazhi snatched the plate away, her hands trembling. "My son used to love the dumplings I made, but now he won't even dare to eat a single bite. He's completely at your mercy!"

Her voice was shrill and almost cracked, her face was flushed red, and her eyes were filled with anger and hurt.

She held the plate of dumplings tightly, as if it were her only dignity.

Her fingers turned white from the force, and her knuckles turned blue; she couldn't even hold the chopsticks properly.

"Before, the first thing he'd say when he got home was, 'Mom, are the dumplings ready yet?' But now? He doesn't even look at them! Did I say something wrong? Am I not fit to be a mother?"

She became more and more agitated as she spoke, her tone filled with grievance, anger, and a barely perceptible fear—she was afraid of being replaced, afraid of losing her son's dependence.

Just as Qiao Wanyin was about to explain, she suddenly felt a churning in her stomach.

The nausea came without warning, as if someone had violently stirred something in her stomach.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out; she only felt a sour taste rush to her throat.

Her face turned deathly pale instantly, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead.

She tried to force herself to say a few words of comfort, but her body wouldn't obey her. Instinctively, she covered her mouth and staggered toward the bathroom.

"vomit--"

The sound shattered the silence of the dining room, clear and abrupt.

She knelt in front of the toilet, gagging incessantly, her body trembling violently from the spasms.

My empty stomach was churning, but I couldn't vomit anything; only acidic fluid kept gushing out, burning my throat.

She curled up, her fingers gripping the edge of the toilet tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force.

Cold sweat slid down his forehead, mingling with tears and blurring his vision.

She covered her mouth and rushed into the bathroom, the sound of her gagging clearly audible.

The sound was intermittent yet continuous, each note seeming to drain her strength.

The tap was running, and water dripped down, making the gagging sound even clearer.

She leaned against the cold tile wall, breathing rapidly, her chest heaving violently.

Her face was reflected in the mirror; her lips were blue, her eyes were unfocused, and she looked as if her soul had been ripped away.

The three people at the table were stunned, and Song Yazhi's chopsticks fell to the table with a "thud".

The sharp crack was particularly jarring in the silence.

Fang Wanyu's eyes widened, her mouth slightly agape, momentarily speechless.

Fu Li'an suddenly stood up, causing the chair to slide backward with a screeching sound.

Song Yazhi's expression froze on her face; anger still lingered in the corners of her eyes, but more than that, there was a sudden sense of bewilderment.

Her hand froze in mid-air as she stared in the direction of the bathroom, her lips trembling slightly, as if she had suddenly realized something.

"this……"

Her eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth twitched slightly.

She wanted to say something, but her throat felt like it was blocked by something.

She subconsciously swallowed, her eyes constantly shifting between Fu Lian and the bathroom.

A strong intuition quietly rose in her heart, making her dare not shout anymore, nor dare to draw conclusions easily.

Her heart raced, her palms were sweaty, and even her fingertips were icy cold.

Qiao Wanyin was leaning over the sink, vomiting violently, and tears were streaming down her face.

She was almost completely exhausted, pressing her forehead against the cold ceramic, trying to use the chill to keep herself awake.

But the spasms in her stomach didn't stop, and each spasm made her wince in pain.

Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, mingling with cold sweat, and dripped into the sink.