Chapter 12 Every Day, Doing and Waiting

When Cheng Yanchi had forced Jiang Yao into the car, his attitude was as unyielding as steel; but once he started the engine, he changed completely.

“Ayao, what do you want for dinner?” he asked with a bright smile. “I know a newly opened restaurant—Thai food, supposed to be quite good.”

Jiang Yao leaned her elbow against the edge of the car window, massaging her forehead with her thumb. “I don’t care for Thai food.”

“Then how about sashimi? That place we went last time had the freshest ingredients.”

Jiang Yao gazed at the scenery flying past outside. “No, I’m not hungry.”

“Not hungry? At least have some porridge, just to settle your stomach—”

Porridge again...

“Cheng Yanchi!” Jiang Yao cut him off. “Just concentrate on driving.”

Cheng Yanchi raised his eyebrows, a charming smile curling his lips as he drove the car out of the villa district.

On the second floor of the villa, He Yunqing stood by the large French window, watching the Lamborghini grow smaller and smaller in the distance. He tapped his phone thoughtfully with his finger.

After a long pause, he made a call.

“Yunqing, I was just about to talk to you about the upcoming schedule.” It was his agent, Sister Cai, who picked up.

“The second son of the Zhang family is getting married?” He Yunqing asked bluntly.

Sister Cai was momentarily taken aback. “Yes, but you’ve never cared about these things before, have you?”

“I can be a guest performer at the wedding,” He Yunqing said coolly.

“What?” Sister Cai really couldn’t make sense of it. “Zhang Group is a big company, sure, but with your current status, you don’t need to do these events anymore. I don’t know why you suddenly want to be a guest performer, but your time is valuable. For example, the upcoming—”

“Just one day. It’s to help a friend,” He Yunqing said succinctly.

“A friend?” Sister Cai sighed. “Alright, I’ll do my best to coordinate your schedule. Zhang Group will be delighted to have you attend.”

“There’s one condition…”

At Huai’an Hospital.

Jiang Yao was dragged by Cheng Yanchi for yet another blood test, another set of exams, and then prescribed a pile of medicine.

While Cheng Yanchi went to the pharmacy to collect the medicine, Jiang Yao seized the chance to seek out Aunt Qin.

She didn’t step into the ward, just stood quietly outside, gazing at the mother and son within.

Chen Shu was still unconscious, so still he seemed to merge with the air itself; only the data from the monitors attached to him proved he was still alive.

Aunt Qin looked even older, gently wiping her son’s body with a damp towel, tears streaming down her face as she worked.

When she turned to rinse the towel, she happened to meet Jiang Yao’s eyes.

Jiang Yao darted away like a deserter, pressing herself against the corridor wall and gasping for breath.

She was afraid to meet Aunt Qin’s gaze.

If that gaze held only hatred, perhaps it would have been easier to bear.

But in those eyes were the despair of a mother who’d already lost one son, the sorrow of uncertainty over the fate of another, the hardships of a mother’s lifetime.

Jiang Yao wished Aunt Qin would hate her; if that hatred could ease Aunt Qin’s pain, she’d rather she never forgave her.

The door to the ward closed.

This time, Jiang Yao wasn’t scolded. Yet she felt worse than if she’d been cursed a hundred times over.

“Hey.” A man’s voice sounded beside her.

Jiang Yao snapped out of it to see Cheng Yanchi carrying a large bag of medicine.

“What’s wrong?” Cheng Yanchi gestured towards the ward. “I was only away for a few days for a competition abroad.”

Jiang Yao took the bag, shaking her head. “It’s nothing. He’ll be fine.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Cheng Yanchi called after her. “Your mother.”

Jiang Yao swung her fist at him. “So you go abroad for a few days, and now you’re swearing as soon as you open your mouth!”

Cheng Yanchi spread his hands innocently. “No, I mean her—the woman who claims to be your mother.”

He nodded towards the corridor. “I ran into her when I went to fetch the medicine—she saw me by chance and followed me back.”

Jiang Yao followed his gaze. Not far away, a haggard, aged woman stood with reddened eyes, looking at her intently.

Jiang Yao met her eyes for two seconds, then turned away without a word.

“Xiaoqing…” the woman called, then corrected herself, “No, I should call you Jiang Yao now.”

Jiang Yao stopped, sniffed quietly with her back to everyone, then turned around. “What do you want?”

The woman shifted awkwardly. “I made your favorite braised duck feet.”

“When did you make them? How did you know I’d be here today?” Suspicion flickered in Jiang Yao’s eyes.

The woman clutched a red bag to her chest. “I make them every day. I wait every day.”

“You abandoned me once without a second thought. What is this supposed to mean now?” Jiang Yao’s fists clenched.

“I regretted it the second year after I left. You have to believe me—I went back to look for you, but…I just couldn’t find you…” The woman choked on her words.

Jiang Yao laughed bitterly, her voice trembling. “The second year? You can even say ‘the second year’? Did you ever think about what my life was like during that first year? A girl all alone, hungry, cold, bullied—did you ever care?”

“I…” The woman’s voice failed her; she could only weep.

“Of course, you’ve never thought that far ahead. Just like you ignored everything I suffered. Just like you betrayed me. Don’t come looking for me again. I don’t want to see you anymore.” Jiang Yao held back tears.

She wouldn’t let herself cry in front of this woman.

But the woman sobbed harder. “I’m sorry, truly sorry, but I had my reasons…”

“Enough,” Cheng Yanchi interrupted impatiently. “Who doesn’t have their own burdens? Didn’t you hear her? She doesn’t want to see you. Why are you still here?”

The woman wiped her tears, hesitated, then placed the bag of braised duck feet gently on a chair in the corridor. She turned to go, but not before casting one last, lingering glance at Jiang Yao.

“Come on, let’s go,” Cheng Yanchi said, patting Jiang Yao on the shoulder.

Jiang Yao turned as if to leave, then paused and walked towards the red bag.

She opened it. Inside was a steel lunchbox, decades old. She lifted the lid—inside, the box was filled with braised duck feet.

Jiang Yao’s throat tightened, her eyes brimming.

“They look delicious,” Cheng Yanchi said, peering over her shoulder.

She shoved the lunchbox into his arms. “If they’re so good, you eat them.”

Clutching the box, Cheng Yanchi walked alongside her. “That’s great! A woman was going to treat me to French cuisine tonight, but I turned her down—I’m not a fan.”

Jiang Yao glanced at him. “A woman?”

“Yeah, she even gave me a tie. Maybe she thinks my taste is off. I didn’t accept it,” he replied carelessly.

Jiang Yao was momentarily speechless.

“What?” he asked.

Jiang Yao looked at him helplessly. “Just stay single for the rest of your life, will you? Please, stay single forever!”