Wan Qiu took one hundred yuan.
The feel of brand-new banknotes in your hand is quite different from the feeling of the dirty, frayed banknotes you always had.
He has one hundred dollars; he can take care of his friends.
"Where to?" Wan Qiu asked.
Yang Xiaoyu smiled; the beautiful woman's smile seemed to outshine the sunlight.
"Come with me." The woman took Wanqiu's hand.
Stepping through the coffee shop's doors, the sweltering heat is instantly shut out by the transparent glass doors. Tranquil music fills the elegant café, as if a new world has opened up before you.
Wanqiu had never been to a place like this before.
Wan Qiu was being held by Yang Xiaoyu's hand, but was pulled slightly as they went inside.
Wan Qiu did not let go of the trolley; he was inside the glass door, while the trolley was stuck outside.
"Please take a look at these things for me." Yang Xiaoyu pointed directly to the small cart by the door and said, "I'll pay for storage afterwards."
"Okay, please come in." The gentle female shop assistant smiled and gestured for them to enter.
Wan Qiu let go of the small cart and was led by the woman's hand.
The aroma of the coffee shop was different from the bagged bread that Wanqiu was familiar with. The sweetness was undeniable, as if it was trying its best to exude a delicious flavor, enticing everyone.
I sat down on the sofa in the private room. The soft fabric felt like fresh cream flowing through my fingers.
Wanqiu is like foam falling on a dessert—tasteless, clumsy, and out of place.
"As soon as possible." After taking the order, Yang Xiaoyu dismissed the customer and drew the curtain of the small cubicle.
Only the two of them remained in the dark, shady room, where sunlight couldn't penetrate, and only dim spotlights provided warmth.
Even in such an atmosphere, the woman still looked dazzlingly beautiful.
"My name is Yang Xiaoyu," Yang Xiaoyu said.
Wan Qiu responded with his own name: "My name is Wan Qiu."
Are you hungry?
Wan Qiu nodded.
"Let's eat first." With Wan Qiu so close, Yang Xiaoyu's anxiety was soothed.
Yang Xiaoyu took out a pack of wet wipes from her small bag, tore it open, and held Wan Qiu's hand.
Your hands are dirty.
The cool, damp feeling of the wet wipe gently cleaned his fingers. Wan Qiu gazed at the woman; her long, thick eyelashes made her eyes even more beautiful.
Wanqiu's hands were wiped clean, carrying a slightly damp, fragrant scent.
The woman threw away the wet wipe, but did not let go of his hand.
The woman's hand gripped his very firmly.
The waitress opened the curtain and placed the first dessert on the table, only then was Wanqiu's hand released.
The wet wipe had dried, but the touch of the woman's palm still lingered on his fingers—warm, cool, and slightly damp.
The first dessert was exquisitely presented, as if touching it would ruin its beauty. Yang Xiaoyu pushed it in front of Wan Qiu.
"Eat up, there'll be pasta later. I don't know how it will taste, but at least it'll fill you up."
Wanqiu held a small spoon and scooped out a small piece of ice cream. The cool and sweet taste quickly took away the summer heat that had accumulated in Wanqiu's morning. The sweet honey toast seemed to fill Wanqiu's brain with its aroma.
Wan Qiu ate quietly, never making a loud noise as his spoon or chopsticks collided with the bowls and plates. He chewed quietly with his cheeks puffed out, which Yang Xiaoyu found quite adorable.
Yang Xiaoyu watched, a smile curving her lips.
Wanqiu stopped.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Yang Xiaoyu asked. The food they ordered hadn't all been served yet, and Wan Qiu had eaten very little.
"I'm full," Wan Qiu said.
"Can't you eat anymore?" Yang Xiaoyu frowned, surprised that a boy in his growth period only had this much food.
Wan Qiu shook his head and said, "Thank you."
Yang Xiaoyu knew that the next step was to have a conversation.
Yang Xiaoyu unconsciously tossed her long hair aside. Facing her unfamiliar flesh and blood, the usually proud and confident woman became reserved.
“I have… a son.” When Yang Xiaoyu was about to speak, she suddenly felt that she had no words. “I loved him very much, but I lost him.”
Wanqiu listened quietly.
“He was lost when he was five years old, which is a long time ago. He should be fourteen years old this year.”
"I've been looking for him for a long time, and now I've found him."
Yang Xiaoyu looked at Wan Qiu, who simply listened.
Yang Xiaoyu stopped beating around the bush and said, "Wanqiu, we've found you."
Wan Qiu raised his eyes, which had been fixed on the plate, and looked at Yang Xiaoyu.
Yang Xiaoyu continued, "I've been looking for you. You are my child. I was too emotional yesterday and didn't express myself well, but everything I said is true."
Wan Qiu was observing Yang Xiaoyu's eyes.
Among them was a very unique gaze, one that Wanqiu had never received before.
It doesn't mean 'unhappy'.
“If you have any doubts, we can do a paternity test.” Seeing Wan Qiu’s silence, Yang Xiaoyu continued, “You were five years old when you were stolen. Don’t you remember anything from before you were five?”
Wanqiu rarely reminisces; his memories are chaotic, and he cannot put them in a proper order.
Scattered fragments of memory are piled up haphazardly in an inconspicuous corner, impossible to organize, and no more detailed information can be found.
But Yang Xiaoyu's words stirred up a storm in the corner of his memory. A jumble of memories resurfaced in Wan Qiu's mind, active and fluttering, as if something was about to emerge.
"Don't you believe me?" Yang Xiaoyu asked anxiously. Her child, who was now a teenager, remained silent after learning the news, which terrified her.
Suddenly, a special fragment of memory appeared before Wanqiu's eyes.
Wan Qiu said, "I believe it."
Yang Xiaoyu was stunned for a moment: "You...believe me?"
Wan Qiu looked at Yang Xiaoyu: "You are... Mom."
When Yang Xiaoyu received an affirmative answer, her eyes slowly widened, and she could hear her heart pounding.
"I am your mother, I am your biological mother!"
Yang Xiaoyu didn't expect that Wan Qiu would accept her simply by saying it.
Unable to contain her joy, Yang Xiaoyu suddenly stood up, leaned forward, and forcefully pulled Wan Qiu over the table, embracing her tightly.
Her child.
This is her child.
"Wanqiu, Wanqiu, call me Mom, call me Mom, okay?" Yang Xiaoyu was almost going crazy.
Wan Qiu could hear Yang Xiaoyu's choked voice.
Wanqiu spoke up: "Mom."
This sound signified that Yang Xiaoyu's greatest hope had come true.
Wan Qiu leaned against Yang Xiaoyu's chest, fragments of memory unfolding before his eyes—a memory he had never thought about in detail before.
He was the son of a wealthy family, but he was stolen and abused in his adoptive parents' home. Later, he was found by the wealthy family and taken back by them.
Stealing away, adoptive parents...
Only today did Wanqiu truly understand the meaning of these two words for his life.
His adoptive parents, the parents who raised him, were not the ones who gave birth to him.
Yang Xiaoyu is the mother who gave birth to him.
These few sentences, which have been transformed into words in my memory, feel light and airy, lacking a sense of reality, and are difficult to understand.
His mother's name is Yang Xiaoyu...
"Is Dad's name Haomen?" Wan Qiu asked.
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