Song Kaiyuan watched as Shen Yan’s expression suddenly softened.
For a moment, thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning. His own speculation nearly drove him to a breakdown. Grabbing Shen Yan by the shoulders, he shook him hard.
“Bro, don’t do anything stupid! You’ve just made a huge contribution this time—when you go back, you’re definitely getting promoted!”
“How can you turn a fake relationship with Comrade Ruan into something real? And after just one night, you’re already hooked?”
“Sure, Comrade Ruan is pretty, has a great figure, is smart and talented, and her kids are adorable, but—”
“She’s worth it,” Shen Yan cut him off decisively.
Song Kaiyuan looked at him with disgust. “But you’re not worthy! Bro, you have a fiancée and a child! How can you have the nerve to let such a good woman like Comrade Ruan become your mistress, raising kids for you?”
“Have you been playing the thug for so many years that you’ve actually lost all sense of shame?”
…
Rain drizzled steadily, washing away the blood in the old alley courtyard in no time.
Wang Guihua, knitting a sweater, kept her hands moving while her eyes darted around restlessly.
“Xiao He, your place really isn’t safe.”
She pointed at the crooked old tree in the corner. “Look at that tree—even a cripple could climb in along it!”
“And that broken door—someone strong could kick it open with one blow.”
Her eyes rolled, and she poked her knitting needle into her hair before leaning closer, nudging Ruan Tinghe lightly with her elbow.
“Xiao He, I have a cousin on my mother’s side. He’s a bit older than you. His wife ran off with someone else, and he has an eight-year-old daughter. You two would be a perfect match!”
“I’ve already told his family about your situation. They like women like you—wide hips, capable of having multiple kids in one go!”
Ruan Tinghe’s lips twitched. Ever since she had announced to the outside world that her husband had died, matchmakers had been showing up every few days. This neighbor, who rarely visited, suddenly came over today and refused to leave—she knew something was up.
“Aunt Guihua, you should’ve heard, right? I specialize in drawing portraits of the dead.”
“I know, I know! My cousin’s family doesn’t mind! Who doesn’t die eventually? Besides, they play suona at funerals—perfect match for you!”
The more Wang Guihua spoke, the more excited she became. She even set down her knitting needles, grabbed Ruan Tinghe’s hand, and continued, “Listen to me. It’s too hard for a woman to raise three kids alone. A household needs a man. Like last night—so dangerous!”
“My cousin might not have many talents, but he can at least support a family. If you marry into his home, you won’t have to do anything except have children. How easy is that?”
Ruan Tinghe abruptly pulled her hand back, her voice turning colder.
“Aunt Guihua, do you know how my children’s father died?”
Wang Guihua froze, then shook her head. Everyone only knew that Ruan Tinghe had lost her husband shortly after marriage, had been driven out by her in-laws, rejected by her own family, and was struggling to raise three children alone. Anything beyond that, no one knew.
“I helped the police draw the face of a murderer. In a fit of rage, the killer tried to wipe out my whole family! My children’s father was hacked to death—dozens of blows, killed alive!”
“You—” Wang Guihua’s eyes widened in shock. “You go to the police station every day because…?”
Ruan Tinghe nodded mysteriously. “That’s right. I’ve already drawn portraits for dozens of murderers, and many of them are still at large. Just today, Old Chen warned me to be careful. There’s a serial killer who already knows I help with sketching suspects.”
“How about this—why don’t I marry your cousin tomorrow? He can protect me and my kids.”
Wang Guihua trembled violently, her face turning pale as she stared at Ruan Tinghe like she was looking at the Grim Reaper.
“I just remembered!” she suddenly jumped up. “My cousin… he can’t have children. He’s not suitable for you!”
Watching Wang Guihua flee in panic, Ruan Tinghe let out a long sigh.
Behind her, three soft sighs echoed in unison. Turning around, she saw the three little ones sitting on small stools, each propping their chins with both hands, sighing helplessly as they looked at her.
“Mom, you’re scaring people again.”
Ruan Tinghe spread her hands, equally helpless. Her excuse of “drawing portraits of the dead” no longer scared off matchmakers. She had no choice but to make up something new.
“Mom, is our dad really dead?” the eldest suddenly asked seriously.
Ruan Tinghe didn’t dare meet his eyes, feeling a bit guilty. “Dead. His ashes have already been scattered.”
The three children showed no trace of sadness. From the moment they were born, they had only had their mother by their side, so they felt nothing for that so-called father.
But the eldest remembered the danger from last night. Wang Guihua wasn’t entirely wrong—Mom was too fragile and needed someone to protect her.
He was too small to do it himself.
“Mom, I’ll find you a dad!”
Ruan Tinghe laughed. “Alright, then find me a dad to be your grandpa.”
“No!” The eldest clung to her arm, his chubby little face filled with seriousness. “Mom, let’s find a man who looks fierce, likes you, and whom you also like, to be our dad, okay?”
“Where would you even find such a person?”
“There is! That bad-looking uncle on the street. Mom, don’t you like him?”
At the mention of that man, Ruan Tinghe reacted like her tail had been stepped on.
“I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me either! Stop talking nonsense.”
“He definitely likes you. The way he looks at you is exactly like how Little Bao looks at pretty stones—his eyes are all sparkly.”
“If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself!”
The eldest raised his chubby hand and pointed toward the doorway.
Ruan Tinghe glanced over casually. Through the curtain of rain, an oil-paper umbrella dripped steadily. Beneath the sound of falling rain, a man stood there with a blade of grass between his lips. His sharp brows and eyes were cold, the slight upward tilt at the corners carrying a hint of roguish charm.
“What are you doing here?”
Ruan Tinghe glared at him unfriendly. He was still wearing the same tattered, bloodstained floral shirt from earlier that morning. Rainwater had seeped into the wounds on his face, and the diluted blood trickled down his stern features.
He looked so miserable, yet instead of finding somewhere to tend his injuries, he had come to her house?
Could something has gone wrong with the previous mission?
How long had he been standing there? Had he heard everything she said to Wang Guihua just now?
With complicated thoughts swirling in her mind, Ruan Tinghe dragged him into the kitchen.
“What exactly are you here for? My task is already done. You showing up like this is causing me trouble!”
Mostly, she felt a little guilty—seeing his face reminded her of that unspeakable dream.
“I heard you’re very good at drawing. I want you to help me draw someone.”
Ruan Tinghe eyed him suspiciously. “With your status, wouldn’t it be easy for you to find someone to draw a portrait?”
“She’s my younger sister. She went missing fifteen years ago. Our family has been searching ever since, but…”
Shen Yan took out a black-and-white photo from his wallet. “This was taken before she went missing. It’s the only photo we have.”
Ruan Tinghe examined it carefully. It looked like the photo had been soaked in water—the image was blurred.
She could vaguely make out a little girl in a floral dress, a bow tied in her hair, grinning widely with a gap-toothed smile, looking extremely happy.
Beside her stood a boy in a suit, standing straight and upright. Unfortunately, his face was the most damaged part of the photo—his features were completely unrecognizable.
The boy and girl held hands, clearly very close.