“…Who told you that?”
“No one told me.”
Xiao Niangao lifted his face from her embrace, his expression serious. “I guessed it myself.”
“How did you guess?”
“He looks a lot like me. When he was crying downstairs, you were crying too, Mom. And last night, you looked at his photo for a long time.”
Shen Luning looked down at him.
She suddenly realized that this child seemed much smarter than she had imagined.
No, not smart—sensitive.
It was the kind of excessive sensitivity to a parent’s emotions that only a child who had lived in a single-parent family for years could possess.
She thought she had hidden it well, but the child saw everything.
“Mom,” Xiao Niangao reached out, his small palm resting on her cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll protect you.”
Shen Luning’s nose stung.
She buried her face in the crook of Xiao Niangao’s shoulder and took a deep breath.
The child smelled of shower gel, a faint lingering scent of the pork ribs they had eaten yesterday, and an indescribable scent that belonged only to him.
This was all the sense of security she had had for the past five years.
Not the house, not the savings, not the design drafts in the safe.
It was this little person who wasn’t even as tall as her waist.
“Xiao Niangao,” she lifted her head, blinking hard to hold back the moisture in her eyes. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth first. Mom will make you breakfast. Today, we’re having fried eggs—round ones.”
“Sun-shaped!”
“Yes, sun-shaped.”
“Mom.”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
Shen Luning froze.
Xiao Niangao rarely said these words.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love her—he just didn’t say it.
This child had never been good at expressing his emotions since he was little. He didn’t cry when he fell, didn’t cry when he got shots, didn’t get angry when someone took his toys. He swallowed all his emotions, just like someone she didn’t want to admit he resembled, though she knew it all too well.
When had he started saying “I love you”?
Probably when he noticed that every time he said it, his mom’s eyes would light up.
So, he remembered.
And so, he started saying it.
Shen Luning reached out and pinched his cheek.
“Mom loves you too. Now go wash your face.”
Xiao Niangao slid off the bed and padded toward the bathroom in his slippers.
At the doorway, he stopped, holding onto the doorframe as he turned to look at her.
“Mom.”
“What now?”
“That uncle took my rabbit last night.”
Shen Luning: “…What?”
“He said he wanted it, so I gave it to him.”
Xiao Niangao looked innocent. “Anyway, that rabbit has been sewn up so many times, and its ears are crooked. I kind of wanted a new one.”
Shen Luning took a deep breath.
That rabbit was something she had sewn when she was seven months pregnant.
Back then, she lived in the Lu family’s villa. Lu Sihan came home very late every day, and the huge house was empty except for her and the housekeeper.
She didn’t know how to sew. Her stitches were crooked, and she pricked her fingers countless times.
One day, Lu Sihan came home early and saw her crying over the poorly sewn rabbit. He didn’t say anything, just took the rabbit, turned it over to look at it, and then handed it back to her.
“It’s good,” he said.
“How is it good? The ears are sewn crooked.”
“That’s what makes it special,” he said. “It’s different from the ones you buy outside.”
That was one of the rare moments when he acted like a normal person.
Not crazy, not cold, not obsessive—just like an ordinary husband comforting an ordinary wife.
It was only later that she understood why he had come home early that day.
Because Jiang Wan had come to City A that day.
The reason he returned early wasn’t to spend time with her, but to prevent them from meeting.
Shen Luning closed her eyes, forcing the memory out of her mind.
“Lu Xingye,” she said, “do you know about that rabbit…”
“I know.”
Xiao Niangao interrupted her, his tone suddenly turning serious. “That was the first rabbit Mom ever sewed. It has sentimental value.”
“Then why did you give it to him?”
Xiao Niangao leaned against the doorframe, his hands tucked into his pajama pockets, tilting his head as he looked at her.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating half his face and turning his dark, grape-like eyes into a nearly transparent amber.
“Because he was bleeding,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “He looked like he was in pain. The rabbit could make him feel better.”
Shen Luning looked at him, feeling as though her son sometimes resembled a miniature alien. His logic was self-contained, but she couldn’t quite grasp how it worked.
“When you felt sorry for him,” she carefully chose her words, “why didn’t you ask me first?”
Xiao Niangao thought for a moment.
“Because you would’ve said no.”
“Then why did you still give it to him?”
“Mom,” Xiao Niangao sighed, a sigh that was exactly like Lu Sihan’s, “you taught me that when someone is hurt, you should help them. You can’t expect me to see someone bleeding and run back to ask you, ‘Mom, Mom, can I save this person?’ right?”
Shen Luning: “…”
He made so much sense that she couldn’t even argue.
Seeing she had nothing more to say, Xiao Niangao nodded in satisfaction and turned to go into the bathroom.
He left the door open.
From inside came the sound of him tiptoeing to reach the faucet, followed by the rush of running water, and then a frustrated sigh as he squeezed out too much toothpaste.
Shen Luning sat on the bed, hugging the blanket, her gaze fixed on the bathroom door.
Suddenly, she felt that maybe the choice she made five years ago was the right one.
Maybe not “maybe,” but “definitely.”
Leaving that home with this child was the right decision.
Because in that home, this child wouldn’t have grown into the person he is now.
He would have become someone like Lu Sihan—incapable of love, unable to express emotions, burying everything beneath a hard shell, believing that as long as he never bared his heart, no one would have the chance to crush it.
But now, this child knows how to say “I love you,” gives a rabbit to someone who is hurt, and protects his mother.
He has grown into a good person.
That is enough.
Shen Luning pushed aside the blanket, stood up, and pulled open the curtains.
Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating every corner.
She squinted, adjusting to the light, and instinctively glanced downstairs…
Then she froze.
At the entrance of the alley downstairs, a car was parked.
Black—not the flashy Rolls-Royce from last night, but a very ordinary black SUV, so low-key that at first glance, it could be mistaken for a family car.
But the license plate told Shen Luning otherwise.
It was Lu Sihan’s car.
She recognized that license plate—ending with four eights, the only one of its kind in City A.
Five years ago, when he drove her to her prenatal checkup, it was in this car.
Back then, she sat in the passenger seat while he drove. An old song played on the radio. She placed her hand on her rounded belly, and he lifted one hand from the steering wheel to cover the back of hers.
Nothing was said, but she remembered—that hand was warm.