Chapter 269 Perfunctory and Indifferent
Qiao Wanyin lowered her head and carefully sewed the loose buttons on her clothes. The stitches were crooked, but she was very attentive.
As she listened to the old man recount his childhood experiences, which she had never participated in, something seemed to gently stir her heart.
A slight smile crept onto her lips, and a faint glint appeared in her eyes.
"When he was five years old, he insisted on climbing a tree to steal birds' nests. Halfway up, his foot slipped, and he fell down with a thud. His pants tore open, and his knees were scraped."
As Song Yazhi spoke, she couldn't help but shake her head with a smile, "I was so angry that I really wanted to hit him a couple of times, but when I saw him sitting on the ground crying with tears and snot all over his face, his little face all scrunched up, I felt so sorry for him. I called him 'little tyrant' while carrying him home, mending his pants as we walked."
Qiao Wanyin imagined Fu Li'an hanging his head, being scolded, his hair messy, tears on his face, looking exactly like a naughty little mud monkey.
She couldn't help but laugh out loud, her laughter soft and gentle, like the wind rustling through the leaves.
She had secretly fantasized that one day her mother-in-law would hold her hand and talk intimately about the silly things her son did when he was a child.
Tell me how he was caught stealing candy, how he wet the bed in the middle of the night and kept the whole family busy, and how he refused to eat because he was too playful...
Those ordinary yet heartwarming little things are the kind of family affection she longed for but never had.
But back then, her mother-in-law's gaze was always as cold as ice.
Even if she takes the initiative to greet people and serve them tea or water, all she gets in return is a perfunctory nod or a cold "hmm".
Over time, she stopped expecting anything and stopped getting close to him.
Gradually, I stopped thinking about it.
Song Yazhi smiled too, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothing out in the sunlight, like a blooming autumn chrysanthemum.
She looked at Qiao Wanyin's figure as she carefully sewed, her voice lowered, filled with guilt and sobs: "Wanyin, Mom was so ignorant before. I always felt that you were not good enough for my son. I said a lot of nonsense and did a lot of hurtful things... I hurt your heart. It was Mom's fault."
"mom."
Qiao Wanyin gently interrupted her, her needle and thread continuing, her voice as soft as a breeze, yet clearly reaching Song Yazhi's ears, "It's all in the past."
She raised her head, her gaze calm and gentle, as if she had seen through the storms of the past and embraced the chill of bygone days.
Sunlight fell on her face, casting a soft halo, like a belated reconciliation that finally happened quietly at this moment.
She's thought it through.
After countless sleepless nights, she finally understood that some things could no longer be delayed or avoided.
For Fu Li'an, she was willing to try to take a step forward.
Even if this step is difficult, even if the road ahead is still full of thorns, she wants to try again for this marriage.
Upon hearing this, Song Yazhi burst into tears.
The tears came without warning, sliding down her already wrinkled cheeks, as if emotions suppressed for many years had finally found an outlet.
She hurriedly raised her hand to wipe it, her movements quick yet restrained, not daring to let her daughter-in-law see her vulnerability.
She always tried to maintain the image of a strong mother, not wanting people to think she was weak, and even less wanting to add burden to Qiao Wanyin.
But Qiao Wanyin had already seen it.
She saw it clearly; the moisture and trembling in those eyes revealed an undeniable sincerity.
She silently handed over a handkerchief.
It was a cotton handkerchief she always carried with her, with a small orchid embroidered on the corner, clean and simple.
Song Yazhi took it, her fingertips touching hers, the warm touch traveling from her skin to her heart.
This time, no one hid.
There was no retreat, no avoidance, and no indifferent silence.
That instant of contact was like a bridge that had been frozen for a long time finally cracking open, letting in light.
At the dinner table, Fu Lian sensed that the atmosphere was different.
The air seemed lighter than usual, lacking that suffocating sense of oppression.
Qiao Wanyin and Song Yazhi exchanged a few words occasionally, their tone calm, like an ordinary mother and daughter chatting.
They would even pass food to each other—Song Yazhi put a piece of green vegetable into Qiao Wanyin's bowl, and Qiao Wanyin thanked her with a smile, then returned the favor by giving her mother-in-law a piece of fish.
This subtle interaction had almost never occurred in the past few months.
He lowered his head, pretending that he was still the sullen patient.
She mechanically stirred the rice with her chopsticks, but her eyes couldn't help but sneak up and glance at the two people opposite her.
He wanted to confirm whether all of this was real, or just his imagination.
"Li An, have a piece of meat."
Qiao Wanyin placed a piece of braised pork into his bowl, her voice gentle yet unpretentious, "Mom specially made it according to your previous taste, stewed until tender, without any spice."
She knew that this was his favorite dish when he was a child, and his grandmother would make a big pot of it every Chinese New Year.
Fu Li'an didn't look up, but his heart was in turmoil.
The braised pork lay quietly in the bowl, its surface glistening with oil, emitting a fragrant aroma.
But he was stunned.
she……
Has he really forgiven his mother?
Or was it just a performance to ease the tension?
His heart clenched suddenly, then slowly relaxed, his emotions churning violently.
"Um."
He responded with a slightly hoarse voice.
He shoveled a couple of mouthfuls of rice down his throat, swallowed hard, and then put down his chopsticks. "I'm not eating anymore."
His movements as he stood up were slightly stiff, as if he was eager to escape some emotion that he could not bear.
Song Yazhi and Qiao Wanyin exchanged a glance, neither of them speaking, but their eyes were filled with worry.
Their eyes met briefly, and they understood each other without saying a word—they both knew that Fu Li'an hadn't completely moved on, but he had already begun to waver.
That night, Fu Lian lay in bed, listening to the rushing water in the bathroom, feeling a mix of emotions.
The sound of water continued, like an unending memory, washing away the barriers in his heart.
He closed his eyes, his fingers unconsciously picking at the corner of the blanket.
I'm sorry to them, that's the truth.
He knew that his indifference these days had hurt two of his closest people, especially Qiao Wanyin, who had been silently supporting the family.
But the secret joy in her heart couldn't be hidden.
The joy was small and faint, yet it was real—he felt his home gradually warming up again.
The water has stopped.
A moment later, the bathroom door opened gently, and the moisture and warm air drifted into the room.
Qiao Wanyin dried her wet hair, her body exuding a faint, clean scent of soap, a scent that sent a shiver down his spine.
She was wearing a loose nightgown, her hair still dripping with water, and the light from the lamp made her look exceptionally soft.
She sat in front of the mirror, not looking directly at him, but secretly glancing at him through the mirror.
Her gaze was subtle yet focused, as if she were trying to make sure he was alright, while also being afraid of revealing her concern.
“Li An”.
She suddenly spoke, her voice soft, yet like a pebble thrown into a lake, creating ripples.
"I talked with my mom for a long time today."
His heart tightened, and his breathing unconsciously slowed down: "What did you talk about?"
"Things from your childhood."
She turned around to face him, her eyes shining like stars, filled with smiles and nostalgia. "You were so naughty when you were little, climbing over the wall to pick dates, scaring the neighbor's chickens away, do you remember?"
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