Over the next few days, the Fu family estate suddenly became lively.
Chairman Fu Kezhi returned from the group headquarters. He first went to see Mrs. Fu, then detoured to the nursery, where he stood by the cradle and studied Fu Jingxi for quite a while.
By evening, the second young master, Fu Yulang, dragged his suitcase through the door. The moment he entered, he loudly proclaimed he was starving and told the kitchen to cook him a bowl of noodles.
He was six years younger than Fu Yanqin. His features were less sharp, and he wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, giving him a refined and gentle appearance—though his tongue was anything but forgiving.
“Brother’s really outdone himself this time,” Fu Yulang said, lounging on the sofa peeling an orange, his tone casual. “The kid’s already a month old, and I still haven’t even laid eyes on my sister-in-law.”
Mrs. Fu shot him a glare from the side. “Stop making up stories about your brother.”
“How am I making things up? I’m just stating facts.”
Fu Yulang tossed an orange segment into his mouth and continued, muffled,
“The girl gave him a son, and what does he do? Doesn’t even give her a proper status. When Jingxi grows up and asks who his mom is, I’d like to see how he explains it.”
Just then, a sweet voice floated in from the entryway:
“Second Brother, you’re talking bad about Big Brother behind his back again!”
Fu Xianshu entered and immediately spotted Fu Jingxi in Sister Zhou’s arms. Her eyes lit up at once.
“Oh my, is this my nephew?”
She rushed over in a few quick strides, reaching out to hold him. “Come, come, let me hold him! I’ve been dying to see him since I was abroad!”
Sister Zhou carefully handed him over. The moment Fu Xianshu took him, her arms went stiff.
“Why is he so soft?”
She frantically adjusted her hold, like a bomb disposal expert cradling a bomb.
Fu Jingxi, clutched in her clumsy grasp, pursed his little lips and looked about to cry.
Tong Xi had been standing nearby the whole time. Seeing this, she quietly stepped forward:
“Miss Fu, the young master just woke up. You need to support the back of his neck, like this…”
She reached out to demonstrate, her fingertips gently supporting the infant’s neck. Fu Jingxi’s crying subsided, and his little head tilted toward Tong Xi’s embrace.
Fu Xianshu looked up at her and blinked.
“Oh, are you the new nanny? Your makeup is really heavy.”
Tong Xi lowered her head slightly. “Yes, miss.”
“How old are you? You look younger than me, and you already have a child?”
Fu Xianshu was the friendly type who warmed up to anyone instantly. She clumsily rocked her nephew while chattering on,
“It must be so hard, going out to work alone to raise a child.”
Tong Xi didn’t respond, only smiled.
Fu Xianshu turned her attention back to her nephew and sighed with a pout:
“Poor Jingxi. We don’t even know where his real mother is. Big Brother is just—ugh, what was he thinking? He has his fun and then walks away, probably doesn’t even remember what the girl’s surname was.”
Fu Yulang chimed in from the side:
“Even if he remembered, he probably wouldn’t marry her.”
Fu Xianshu pursed her lips. “Big Brother’s personality—cold as a block of ice. What girl could stand him?
But still, the child is innocent. Jingxi is so adorable, and he’s never even seen his own mother. It’s heartbreaking just thinking about it.”
As she spoke, her own eyes reddened first. She lowered her head and nuzzled Fu Jingxi’s little cheek:
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Auntie loves you.”
Tong Xi stood beside them, her fingers clenching tightly beneath her sleeve before slowly releasing.
Fu Xianshu was still playing with the child. “Who do you think Jingxi looks like? His eyes are like Big Brother’s, his mouth… hmm, his mouth doesn’t seem quite the same. He probably takes after his mother. I wonder where that sister is now, and whether she’s doing well…”
Tong Xi lowered her eyes, her lashes veiling the turbulent emotions churning beneath them.
Fu Yulang tossed the orange peel into the trash bin and lazily added:
“Anyway, with Big Brother being the way he is, this is probably how it’ll be for the rest of his life—cold as ice. What woman could stand spending a lifetime with him?”
Fu Xianshu disagreed. “That’s not necessarily true. What if he meets his true love someday?”
Fu Yulang let out a scoff. “That man? His heart only has room for the group and business. He can’t even be bothered to ask about the mother of his child. You think he knows what love is?”
The siblings chatted back and forth, and before long the topic drifted elsewhere, to amusing stories from their time studying abroad.
Tong Xi quietly retreated to the window, lowering her head to smooth the edges of Fu Jingxi’s swaddle, her fingertips brushing lightly over his soft newborn hair.
The living room was brightly lit, filled with laughter and chatter.
She stood at the edge of that circle of light, a dutiful, unremarkable wet nurse.
Fu Xianshu had coaxed Fu Jingxi into a comfortable little yawn.
Looking down at the soft bundle in her arms, she suddenly noticed the little pale-yellow newborn cap on Fu Jingxi’s head—
the stitching was fine and dense, and the brim was embroidered with a tiny lily of the valley, so lifelike it seemed almost real.
“Hey, where did you buy this cap?”
Fu Xianshu pinched the fabric between her fingers. “It’s so soft, and the needlework is exquisite. I’ve never seen anything this pretty even abroad.”
Sister Zhou chimed in with a smile from the side:
“Bought it? No, Miss Xi made it by hand, stitch by stitch. Not just this one either—the young master’s bibs and drool cloths, she sewed all of them herself.”
Fu Xianshu immediately turned to look at Tong Xi by the window, her eyes sparkling:
“Really? You’re so talented with your hands! This lily of the valley is embroidered so realistically—it’s finer than my designer scarves.”
Mrs. Fu, who had been holding her teacup, also looked over at the remark, her gaze landing on Tong Xi with a touch more warmth:
“This girl has clever hands and a careful heart. In those first few days after Jingxi was brought home, he fussed every night. She stayed by the cradle and soothed him night after night—feeding, burping, changing diapers, she never missed a thing.
Look at Jingxi’s little face, all round and plump now—that’s all thanks to her care.”
Tong Xi’s ears flushed slightly at the praise, and she only murmured:
“Madam flatters me. It’s all just my duty.”
Fu Xianshu carefully handed Fu Jingxi back into Tong Xi’s arms, then leaned over to hook her arm:
“What duty or not—you’re just wonderful! Come on, don’t just stand there. Sit down and eat with us.”
Tong Xi was taken aback. “Miss Fu, I…”
Fu Xianshu pulled her toward the dining table without argument.
“You’re holding Jingxi—we can’t very well let you stand off to the side watching us eat, can we?”
Mrs. Fu also nodded. “Sit down. There aren’t so many rules in this house.”
Unable to decline, Tong Xi could only take a seat at the far end of the table.
The table was laden with steaming dishes, and Fu Xianshu kept piling food onto her plate.
The meal passed in warm harmony.
When everyone set down their chopsticks, Tong Xi rose with the now-sleeping Fu Jingxi in her arms, quietly excused herself, and returned to the nursery.
…
In the dead of night, only a dimmed bedside lamp glowed in the bedroom, its warm yellow light pooling into a small pocket of tranquility.
Tong Xi lay on her side at the edge of the bed, gazing at her son curled into a tiny ball beside her.
Ever since the little one learned to roll all over the bed, the crib had fallen completely out of favor.
The big bed was plenty spacious—he could tumble and roll to his heart’s content without any fear of falling off in the middle of the night.
Sleepiness surged over her like a tide. Tong Xi forced her drooping eyelids to stay open,
reached out to check her son’s diaper, and finding it still dry, scooted him further inward before lying down at the edge of the bed herself.
The air conditioning was set a bit high. Tong Xi didn’t bother with a thick blanket—just a thin throw draped over her as she lay down fully clothed.
The room was warm and cozy. She drifted off in a haze, a thin sheen of sweat gradually forming on her skin.
She woke up because of the heat.
The moment consciousness returned, Tong Xi instinctively felt her son’s diaper—it was a little damp.
She changed it with quiet, practiced movements, not waking the sleeping little one.
When she lay back down, she peeled off the thin cardigan she was wearing and tossed it at the foot of the bed.
It was just her and her son in the bedroom. Even though the nursery connected to Fu Yanqin’s master suite,
he was away on a business trip, so she had nothing to worry about.
Left in just a slip dress, Tong Xi finally let out a sigh of relief, turned over, and closed her eyes again.
Half-asleep, she heard her son whimper a couple of times.
Without even opening her eyes, she reached out by muscle memory and gathered the little one into her arms, slipping one shoulder strap of her nightgown down and bringing him close to feed.
The little one latched onto what he wanted and immediately quieted down,
his tiny mouth working in rhythmic sucks, his lashes still trembling with dampness as he sank back into a deep sleep.
Mother and son’s breathing gradually evened out, leaving only the low hum of the air conditioner in the air.
But somewhere in the depths of her intuition, Tong Xi felt a gaze resting on her.
She slowly opened her eyes. The son in her arms was sleeping soundly, his little face flushed pink.
Tong Xi turned her head, following the direction of that gaze.
At the doorway connecting to the master suite, a figure stood in the shadows.
The man’s silhouette was hidden in the dimness, only a pair of eyes visible—deep, dark, and utterly devoid of warmth.