March in the capital.
Tong Xi had barely finished her month of postpartum confinement when she came to the Fu residence to apply for the position of wet nurse.
Tong Xi was nothing more than a recent university graduate, an ordinary person who never imagined that at twenty-three, she would already have a baby.
And the baby’s biological father was none other than the man who frequently appeared in financial news—the all-powerful patriarch of the capital’s Fu family, Fu Yanqin.
After that accidental night, she became pregnant.
On the day she gave birth, the doctor unexpectedly told her she had twins—a boy and a girl. She had no parents, no job, and couldn’t afford to raise two children.
Bearing the agony of being separated from her own flesh and blood, she had someone deliver the elder baby to the Fu family, keeping the younger one with her.
Coming to the Fu residence to apply as a wet nurse was a huge risk.
The Fu family paid well, enough to support herself and her daughter—but more importantly… she wanted to see her son.
She was skilled at makeup, skilled enough that with a few subtle touches to her face, she could transform into a completely different person. She had also procured a false identity.
Yet standing before the Fu estate at this very moment, her heart still pounded with terror.
Tong Xi was led by a servant through the front hall until they reached the entrance to the main reception room.
The door was half-open, and voices drifted out from within.
The servant announced, “Madam, she’s arrived. She’s waiting outside.”
“Let her in.”
Mrs. Fu said in a calm, indifferent tone.
The door was pushed open from the inside, and a well-dressed middle-aged woman poked her head out, looking Tong Xi up and down.
Tong Xi knew this was the Fu family’s head housekeeper, surnamed Zhou, and people in the circle called her Sister Zhou.
She hurriedly bowed slightly and said, “Hello, Sister Zhou.”
Sister Zhou said nothing, merely stepping aside to let her enter.
The Fu family had deep roots in the capital, and Mrs. Fu was a formidable figure well-known in social circles.
Nowadays, her husband Fu Kezhi and eldest son Fu Yanqin spent most of their time at the group corporation, while her second son and youngest daughter were both studying abroad.
In the vast mansion, only Mrs. Fu remained, caring for her one-month-old grandson.
The furnishings in the main hall weren’t extravagantly luxurious, but every piece was of the finest quality.
Rosewood furniture, cushions embroidered with Suzhou silk thread, and a neatly pruned orchid placed in the corner.
Mrs. Fu sat in the seat of honor, wearing a dark navy blue Chinese-style jacket.
Tong Xi walked in, stood properly with her head slightly lowered, and said nothing.
Mrs. Fu studied Tong Xi.
Tong Xi could feel that gaze settling on her, leaving nowhere to hide.
But she didn’t avert her eyes, her lashes lowered slightly.
Sister Zhou also looked at Tong Xi, her mind already working.
She had been in this line of work for over twenty years, having vetted countless nanny applicants—she’d seen every kind there was.
But this young woman before her was different.
As someone with experience, she naturally knew the difference between a young girl and a woman.
Girls who had never given birth were green and unripe—tense, shoulders rigid, eyes timid, waists thin but stiff.
But this woman was like a perfectly ripe honey peach—
Skin so thin you could see the color of the juice within, and with the slightest squeeze, honey would seep out.
Sister Zhou stared at that slender waist and full hips, and a word suddenly sprang into her mind.
A siren.
And one with abundant milk, at that.
She was secretly startled, yet couldn’t help stealing a few more glances.
The girl was plainly dressed—a white linen blouse, a navy blue long skirt, and a pair of flat cloth shoes on her feet.
Not a single piece of jewelry on her, and her hair was simply tied back in a loose ponytail with a plain elastic band.
Yet even in such simple attire, she couldn’t conceal that seductive charm that seeped from her very bones.
Her makeup was too heavy to see her true features, but she was certainly a beauty.
Sister Zhou nodded inwardly.
“How old are you?”
Mrs. Fu finally spoke.
“Twenty-three.”
Tong Xi’s voice carried the soft, mellow accent of a southern girl.
“Where are you from?”
“Rural Suzhou.”
“Any family left?”
Tong Xi paused, her eyelashes trembling faintly, but she quickly regained her composure and lied:
“No, none. I have no parents. My husband passed away in an accident last year, and I’ve cut off contact with his family.”
She had fabricated her life story before coming—half truth, half lie.
No parents was true; a dead husband was false.
Mrs. Fu didn’t press further, only nodded, then asked:
“What made you think of coming to the Fu family as a wet nurse? Can you bear to leave your own child?”
Tong Xi said, “I’m raising my child alone with no income. I truly had no other choice but to look for work. Being a wet nurse… happens to let me look after my child while having a meal to eat.”
She spoke plainly and matter-of-factly about her circumstances, which instead left a bitter feeling in one’s heart.
Mrs. Fu looked at her, was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly asked something unexpected:
“You don’t look like someone who’s suffered hardship.”
What the lady meant was: you’re a young woman, blessed with such good looks—how could you have fallen so low as to become someone’s wet nurse?
And for the Fu family’s little young master, no less—do you have ulterior motives?
After all, the previous wet nurses who’d been hired by the Fu family and then dismissed had all been let go for the same reason:
They harbored delusions of becoming the Fu family’s young madam—Fu Yanqin’s wife.
Tong Xi raised her head, glanced at the lady, and said frankly:
“Madam, I only want to earn money to support my daughter. The Fu family pays well. There is no other reason.”
This made Sister Zhou startle, and even Mrs. Fu raised an eyebrow slightly.
Mrs. Fu asked nothing more, and turned to Sister Zhou:
“Take her to the back. Let her see Jingxi.”
Only then did Tong Xi realize that Fu Jingxi was the little young master’s name—her own biological son’s name.
Sister Zhou acknowledged and walked over to Tong Xi, taking her hand:
“Come along, girl. The madam has agreed to let you be the young master’s wet nurse. Working in the Fu household, first you must know how to care for children, and second, you must understand the rules.
Since you’ve come, you’ve surely asked around—our Fu family isn’t the cruel sort, but our rules are indeed stricter than others’.”
Tong Xi nodded: “Rest assured, Sister Zhou. I understand.”
Tong Xi followed Sister Zhou to the building in the back and up to the second floor. Sister Zhou pushed open the door to the nursery, and a faint scent of milk wafted out.
In the crib, a tiny figure was crying itself hoarse, its little face flushed red, fists clenched and legs kicking, voice already gone raspy from crying.
Beside it, five or six servants were trying every trick to soothe it:
“Little young master, be good, don’t cry, don’t cry—let’s ride a big horse…”
A plump auntie clumsily swayed her hips, looking like a bear doing a yangge dance.
“Jingxi darling, look at this—a rattle, ding-a-ling.”
Another younger servant frantically shook a colorful rattle, nearly shaking it into a blur.
“How about… singing a song?” A third servant cleared her throat. “Little bunny, be good, open the door…”
So off-key it could’ve reached Siberia.
Tong Xi’s steps faltered for a moment.
That was her son.
A month ago, she had given birth to him, barely managing a hurried glance before entrusting him to someone else to be taken away.
Now, seeing him again, the wrinkled little thing from the swaddling clothes had filled out somewhat, and traces of that person’s features were faintly visible in his brows and eyes.
Her heart felt like it was being viciously squeezed, and her eyes stung.
But she held it in.
Sister Zhou frowned, her tone filled with both distress and a hint of helplessness.
“The young master has been crying for most of the day. He barely touched the formula, and he won’t take breast milk either. The first few wet nurses were all no good—the young master refused to take a single drop.”
Hearing this, Tong Xi quickly walked to the bedside and reached out to pick up the trembling little one who was crying.
The tiny body fell into her arms, so light, yet so warm.
Tong Xi’s hands trembled slightly, but her posture holding the child was steady.
She skillfully rested her son’s head against the crook of her shoulder, her other hand gently patting his back, humming a soft lullaby.
Miraculously, Fu Jingxi’s crying gradually quieted, turning into intermittent sobs.
Sister Zhou’s eyes lit up. “How amazing—the young master really has a connection with Miss Xi.”
Xi Tong was the fake name she used.
Tong Xi breathed in her son’s scent, her chest aching with fullness—
That was the feeling of engorgement.
She carried the child to a soft chair nearby, hesitated for a moment, then unbuttoned her collar.
Fu Jingxi seemed to catch the familiar scent, nuzzling his little head forward, eagerly latching on and suckling in big gulps.
Sister Zhou watched from the side and couldn’t help praising her.
“Miss, you truly have a deep bond with the little young master. You’re experienced—the way you hold the baby and nurse, it’s clear you’ve raised one yourself. And your…”
She paused, her smile deepening. “Being young is wonderful—plenty of milk. The young master will finally get a full meal this time.”
Tong Xi nursed sideways, feeling a bit shy, keeping her head down without a word.
Seeing her like this, Sister Zhou laughed out loud.
“You’re already a mother—what’s there to be shy about? Alright, we’ll step out first. Once you’ve finished feeding him and gotten him to sleep, that’s all.”
The door closed.
Only Tong Xi and Fu Jingxi, nursing in her arms, remained in the room.
She finally couldn’t hold it together anymore. Tears fell silently, drop by drop, onto her son’s soft baby hair.
She lowered her head, her lips gently pressing against that tiny head, murmuring:
“Baby…”
Just then, a low male voice suddenly came from behind her.
“What are you doing?”