The moment Yu Fanfan saw them, her heart constricted so sharply it was a physical ache. She knew this was the original soul’s emotions bleeding through.
The woman, dressed as a wet nurse, held a frail child in her arms. That’s my son, Yu Fanfan realized.
“Ye’er.”
She didn’t care if these feelings were remnants of the original soul. She was a single woman who’d never even had a boyfriend, let alone a child. Yet, the sight of the little bun filled her with a fierce, protective love and a wave of heartbreaking tenderness.
She had sworn that if she inhabited this body, she would cherish everything the original owner held dear. She fully embraced this sudden, overwhelming surge of maternal instinct.
Besides, though the child looked fragile, the original soul’s memories told her he was a sweet, clever, and utterly adorable little cub. For a single woman who had spent countless hours swooning over baby videos and “cloud-raising” children online, this baby was officially hers.
Yu Fanfan hiked up her skirts and rushed forward, reaching out to scoop her son from the wet nurse’s arms for a long-overdue hug and a shower of kisses.
But for some reason—perhaps he was just shy, or maybe he resented his mother for leaving him without a word—the Little Bun wouldn’t give her the time of day.
Maybe the original owner’s love had been so overwhelming that she’d kept her distance, entrusting his care to the wet nurse most of the time, Yu Fanfan wondered. Or perhaps, during her long absence, he’d grown used to her being gone, and seeing her now felt strange and unwelcome.
Trembling, her heart aching with anxiety, she reached out again, only for the Little Bun to turn his head away, presenting her with the back of his small head in a flat-out refusal.
At that moment, a fresh wave of pain seized Yu Fanfan’s chest. Her nose stung, and tears threatened to spill over.
But she was strong-willed. She forced the tears back, her expression breaking into an unprecedentedly warm and gentle smile.
Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the resistant child, and her voice came out soft and cautious, testing the waters.
“Ye’er, it’s me, it’s Mother. Don’t you remember Mother? Ye’er, sweetie, will you look at Mother? I’ve missed you so, so much. Do you miss me?”
A three-year-old child, no matter how much the original owner had suppressed her deep-seated maternal love, would still have a natural affinity for his mother after seeing her every day. This was especially true for Ye’er, who was otherwise ignored and despised by everyone in the duke’s manor except his biological parents.
As Yu Fanfan patiently and softly coaxed the child, her maternal love overflowing, the Little Bun slowly, very slowly, turned his head.
He stared blankly at Yu Fanfan for a long time. Just as she was about to despair, he suddenly tilted his head slightly, looking at her with innocent, tentative eyes.
His pale little lips finally parted.
“Mother?”
The word, barely audible and tinged with a child’s characteristic innocence and a hint of uncertainty, sounded like the most beautiful music to Yu Fanfan’s ears.
In that moment, she felt as if fireworks were exploding before her eyes, brilliant and colorful.
“Yes, yes! It’s Mother, Ye’er. It’s Mother! I’m back. Ye’er, sweetie, will you let Mother hold you?” Yu Fanfan sniffled, reaching out to the Little Bun again.
The little one hesitated, remaining still at first.
Perhaps he recognized Yu Fanfan, or perhaps he was moved by her sincerity. Slowly, very slowly, the Little Bun began to lean toward her.
But just as he was about to reach out and throw himself into her arms, the wet nurse—who had been holding him tight—abruptly moved. The moment Yu Fanfan’s hands were about to touch her son, the nurse snatched him back and retreated several steps.
The sudden change in situation made Yu Fanfan’s expression harden, a sharp glint flashing in her eyes. The nurse clutched the child close and stammered, “Eldest Young Madam, please don’t blame me. The child is shy around strangers, so—”
“So my ass!” Yu Fanfan’s temper flared.
She cut the damn nurse off, too enraged to listen to her babble. She strode forward, reaching out to seize her son.
Who would have thought this wet nurse was both shrewd and calculating? Seeing that she was no match for this former eldest young madam, she grew anxious first.
Carrying Ge’er all the way here, she had heard from the person sent to summon her what had happened. Toward such a destitute, abandoned former eldest young madam who had been divorced and cast out, even a servant like her felt disdain.
Both being mothers, didn’t this woman know that no matter how unwanted Ge’er was in the manor, it was still far better than following a cast-off woman like her—all alone, an abandoned woman whom anyone could bully—to suffer hardships out in the world?
“Eldest Young Madam, this servant still addresses you with respect as eldest young madam only because you are Ge’er’s mother!”
“As a mother, if you had even a shred of consideration for Ge’er in your heart, you shouldn’t have come back to make a scene today, much less come to see Ge’er!”
“Ge’er is the eldest legitimate grandson of the duke’s manor, the eldest legitimate son of the future Lord Heir. A mother like you will only bring shame upon him!”
“If I were you, I would have killed myself right at the manor gates rather than drag my son down, let alone come to see the child now and cause trouble for Ge’er’s future…”
The wet nurse was a strange one. Even as she lost her grip on Little Bun, who was being pulled away by Yu Fanfan’s strong yet careful embrace, she didn’t stop her frantic struggle.
She was so desperate to keep hold of the child that she completely ignored the harm she was causing. Her fingers dug into Little Bun’s ankles, her nails sinking into his flesh through his trousers. All the while, she kept shouting the long-winded speech she believed was for the child’s own good.
Yu Fanfan, who had slipped her arms under Little Bun’s armpits to lift him away, saw the pain on the child’s face. Her heart ached, and she instinctively loosened her grip. This gave the wet nurse the opening to continue her tirade.
As Yu Fanfan’s hold weakened, the nurse felt Little Bun’s weight settle back into her arms. A flash of triumph crossed her face, and she tried to pull away with the child. But Yu Fanfan wasn’t about to let that happen.
She might not know any advanced martial arts, but did the nurse think her years of military training during her transitions from elementary to middle school, middle to high school, and high school to college had been for nothing?
She had even practiced on real wooden dummies during military training. Though she’d missed the target completely, she’d still seen some action—and her instructor had even praised her as the best at military boxing.
Yu Fanfan’s smile turned fierce. She feinted, sending the wet nurse scrambling backward in terror. Seizing the opening, Yu Fanfan lunged forward and stomped hard on the woman’s foot.
The wet nurse cried out in pain, instinctively dropping Little Bun and clutching her foot. Yu Fanfan caught her cub in one fluid motion, then delivered a straight punch to the woman’s cheek.
The blow knocked out a tooth, sending a spray of blood and bone onto the ground.
The wet nurse was a tough one, though. She spat out the bloody tooth and was just drawing breath to curse when Yu Fanfan, cradling her child, delivered a swift kick to the woman’s stomach.
The blow sent her flying. The wet nurse crashed into a distant rockery, knocking over a row of flowerpots.
The clatter of breaking ceramics echoed for a long moment before she finally stopped sliding.
Inside the hall, the female relatives who had been watching the drama unfold stood with their jaws dropped.
“This… Madam Yu actually dared to strike? She actually dared to strike…”
Old Madam Lin muttered in shock, watching the commotion unfold from the hall. Her hand, still pressed to her forehead, subconsciously wandered down to clutch her stomach as a cold sweat broke out on her back.
Yu Fanfan paid them no mind. The moment her long leg touched the ground, she was already focused on checking her child.
Cradling him carefully in one arm, she gently rolled up his pant leg with her other hand. Her eyes reddened as she saw the faint red bruises on his slender, snowy-white calf.
“My baby, my sweet baby, it doesn’t hurt, does it? Mother will blow on it. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—now the pain is all gone…”
Her mind was a whirlwind of panic, so frantic she forgot the child’s name and spoke in her own language, her words coming out in a desperate, disjointed babble.
Yet it was precisely this frantic devotion—the way she clumsily held his leg and blew on the bruises with such heartfelt tenderness—that finally broke Little Bun’s defenses.
After all, though he was small, he was the most sensitive to sincerity.
This version of Yu Fanfan, his mother, was a thousand times more beloved than the woman who had once only watched him from a distance.
Little Bun felt the warm breath on his calf, a gentle breeze that seemed to melt straight into his heart. His tiny hand reached out, patting the top of his mother’s head as she leaned down to blow on his bruises.
“Mother,” he murmured softly, “Ye’er doesn’t hurt.”
The word Mother brought fresh tears to Yu Fanfan’s eyes. She tightened her embrace, pulling him closer and closer.
How could a child this young be separated from his own mother?
And he was so light—too light. A three-year-old should not weigh as much as a one-year-old. How could she trust a wretched wet nurse to raise her son? How could she leave him in this den of wolves and tigers?
Yu Fanfan turned away, wiping her face clean with the back of her hand. When she looked back toward the hall, her eyes burned with an unprecedented resolve.
She would take her son with her, no matter the cost. Even if she had to burn every coin of her dowry, she would not hesitate.
She was a warrior now, fighting for her child.
Ignoring the wretched wet nurse’s fate, Yu Fanfan turned and strode back into the main hall. She met the eyes of the old hag at the head of the room—who quickly looked away—then glanced at the meddling old hen, whose gaze held a deep, calculating thoughtfulness.
Yu Fanfan went straight to the point.
“My Ye’er is the direct grandson of the Cheng Manor,” she declared, “yet you elders, who should love and protect him, have failed utterly. Open your eyes and look! My three-year-old son is frailer than a commoner’s one-year-old! Since you love him not and cast him aside, fine—I will take him! I, Yu Fanfan, will raise my own son. He is coming with me right now!”
She turned to leave, child in her arms, but before she could take a single step, a commanding voice boomed from behind.
“Impossible!”
The voice did not belong to any of the women she had been fighting with in the hall. It was a man’s voice.
Yu Fanfan followed the sound, her gaze sweeping across the room and out into the courtyard. There, hurrying toward her, was Second Master Xie—Xie Guangheng, the full-blooded younger brother of the current Duke of Cheng, Xie Guangcan.