“Who said there’s a problem?”
Fu’s mother turned back, patted Wen Xi’s hand, and smiled so widely her eyes curved.
“Being older is better. Older men know how to care for people. Don’t let Linfeng’s face fool you—cold and expressionless like he owes the world eight hundred million—he’s actually very meticulous. When I was sick as a child, he was only seven or eight, but he already knew how to bring me water, fetch medicine, and even neatly fold the blanket and place it by my bedside…”
“Mom.”
Fu Linfeng spoke, his tone calm, but the tips of his ears turned slightly red.
Fu’s mother ignored him and continued speaking to Wen Xi.
“He’s just not good with words. He doesn’t say nice things, but he understands everything in his heart. You’ll know once you spend more time with him.”
Wen Xi secretly glanced at Fu Linfeng.
He was holding his teacup and drinking, his expression unchanged—but his ears were indeed red.
She lowered her head, unable to stop the corners of her lips from lifting slightly.
“We introduced him to so many girls before,”
Fu’s mother sighed, her tone filled with helplessness.
“Aristocratic daughters, young ladies from prestigious families—whatever type you could think of. He refused to meet any of them, didn’t even look at their photos. I told his father, maybe this child isn’t interested in women at all? We were so worried—”
“Mom.”
Fu Linfeng spoke again, this time with a hint of warning.
Fu’s mother rolled her eyes at him.
“Did I say anything wrong? You tell me yourself, how many people did I introduce to you? Did you meet even one?”
Fu Linfeng did not answer. He lowered his head and drank tea.
“Then one day,”
Fu’s mother’s voice suddenly brightened, her eyes lighting up.
“He suddenly called me and said, ‘Mom, I got married.’ Married! Without even telling us, he just went and got the certificate! His father and I even thought he was joking, that he had randomly found someone to fool us—”
“No.”
Fu Linfeng put down his teacup. His voice was not loud, but it was firm.
“It wasn’t to fool you.”
The living room fell silent for a moment.
Fu’s mother looked at him, then at Wen Xi, and smiled.
“Alright, alright. Not to fool us.”
She patted Wen Xi’s hand again.
“Anyway, now that you’re here, we’re relieved. You have no idea how many years we’ve been waiting for this day.”
Wen Xi did not know what to say. She only smiled with her head lowered.
Her fingers were held in Fu’s mother’s palm, warm and steady. That warmth slowly spread from her fingertips into her heart, melting away the tension and unease she had carried.
“Wen Xi,” Fu’s father, who had spoken little, suddenly asked gently, “what are you doing now?”
Wen Xi lifted her head and straightened her posture.
“I… I run a flower shop with a friend.”
“A flower shop?”
Fu’s father nodded slightly, his expression carrying a hint of approval.
“Having your own work is good. No matter how much you earn, being able to support yourself is worthy of respect.”
Wen Xi had not expected him to say that.
She had assumed a wealthy family like the Fu family would look down on a small business like hers, or think it was embarrassing.
But there was no trace of contempt in Fu’s father’s tone—only sincere recognition.
“Thank you, Dad,” she said, her voice much steadier than before.
“Where is your shop?”
Fu’s mother immediately leaned in, clearly interested.
“When I have time, I’ll go visit and buy some flowers.”
Wen Xi gave her the address. Fu’s mother’s eyes lit up.
“Lin’an Road? Isn’t that very close to Fu Group Corporation? Just a few minutes’ walk, right?”
“Yes,” Wen Xi nodded. “It’s right across from it.”
“That’s perfect!”
Fu’s mother clapped her hands.
“Then I can go sit there for a while during lunch breaks—”
“Today Wen Xi even delivered flowers to the company.”
Fu Linfeng, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.
His voice was calm, as if he were mentioning something trivial.
Wen Xi froze and turned to look at him.
He leaned back on the sofa, one hand on his knee, the other holding a teacup. His expression was indifferent—but the corner of his lips carried a barely noticeable curve.
He was not looking at her. His gaze rested on the teacup, as if he had just mentioned it casually.
But Wen Xi knew he had not.
“Delivered flowers?” Fu’s mother immediately became interested. “To whom?”
“To a client in the marketing department,” Fu Linfeng said lightly. “She came up in my elevator.”
Wen Xi’s ears instantly turned red.
“Your elevator?”
Fu’s mother looked between them, raising her eyebrows.
“You usually don’t let people just use your private elevator. Last time your cousin tried, you kicked him out.”
Fu Linfeng did not answer. He simply continued drinking tea.
Fu’s mother let out an “oh” in a meaningful tone, her lips curling upward.
She did not press further, but the implication in that “oh” was enough to make Wen Xi wish she could disappear into the floor.
“Then from now on, all flower orders from Fu Group Corporation should go to Wen Xi.”
Fu’s mother said with a smile, clearly amused.
“No business should go outside the family.”
“Mom—”
Fu Linfeng set down his teacup, sounding slightly helpless.
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
“It’s only right to support your daughter-in-law’s business. Wen Xi, if your flower shop ever needs anything, just tell Linfeng. If he dares not help, tell me—I’ll deal with him.”
The word “daughter-in-law” made Wen Xi’s heart skip.
She lowered her head and whispered, “Thank you, Mom…”
Fu Linfeng sat beside her, watching.
Watching how Fu’s mother held her hand and talked.
Watching how her tension gradually faded.
Watching how the corners of her lips slowly relaxed.
And how she slowly began to belong.
Dinner was held at the Ancestral House.
A round table. Four people.
It was nothing like Wen Xi had imagined—long tables stretching endlessly with cold distance between them.
Fu’s mother seated Wen Xi beside her. Fu Linfeng sat next to Wen Xi. Fu’s father sat opposite them.
The dishes were cooked personally by Fu’s mother.
Braised pork ribs, steamed sea bass, garlic broccoli, cold mixed wood ear mushrooms, and lotus root rib soup.
Nothing extravagant—just home-cooked dishes—but each one was made with care.
The ribs were tender and flavorful, the fish fresh and soft, the soup thick and milky with goji berries floating on top.
“I didn’t know what you liked,”
Fu’s mother said as she placed a rib into Wen Xi’s bowl.
“So I just made a few of my specialties. Next time, tell me in advance and I’ll cook for you.”
“Mom, you don’t need to trouble yourself,” Fu Linfeng said.
“I wasn’t even giving you food. Why are you reacting so fast?”
Fu’s mother shot him a glance, then placed a piece of fish belly into Wen Xi’s bowl.
“Eat this. No bones.”
Wen Xi looked at the bowl piled high with food. Her nose suddenly stung.
She had not sat at a table like this in a very long time.
It was not the luxury of the Fu residence that made her emotional—it was the act of being served food.
Being treated like family. Like a child. Like someone truly cared for.
The last time she felt this way was long ago, before her father fell into gambling, before her mother fell ill.
A small table. Three people. Her mother placing food in her bowl, her father serving soup, saying, “Eat more, grow well.”
She put the rib into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
Her throat tightened.
“Is it good?” Fu’s mother asked expectantly.
“It’s good,” Wen Xi nodded hard. “Really good.”
Fu’s mother smiled and added another piece.
Fu Linfeng ate quietly beside her. Occasionally, he would serve her soup or turn dishes she could not reach toward her.
Fu’s mother and Fu’s father exchanged a glance.
That look said everything: this boy was serious.
Halfway through the meal, Fu’s mother suddenly remembered something.
“Wen Xi, what’s your flower shop called again?”
“Deng Xian Flower Shop,” she replied. “It comes from the line ‘one easily recognizes the face of the east wind.’”
“Deng Xian…” Fu’s mother repeated, nodding.
“Good name. Very cultured.”
Wen Xi smiled shyly.
“Oh right,” Fu’s mother suddenly said, pulling out her phone.
“Send me your shop address. I’ll tell my friends tomorrow to buy flowers from you.”
Wen Xi was startled.
“No, Mom, you don’t need to—”
“Why not?”
Fu’s mother was already typing.
“My daughter-in-law runs a flower shop. If I don’t support it, who will? Besides, my friends are all bored at home anyway—they love buying flowers. Don’t worry, I’ll promote it tomorrow. I’ll bring you plenty of customers.”