Fang’s mother led Liu Xianglan to the doorway, closed the courtyard gate, and lowered her voice.
“What are you doing in Shanghai? You and my son separated long ago—why have you come looking for him?”
Liu Xianglan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she pushed the little boy beside her forward.
The child wore a blue cotton jacket that was a bit too short, trousers frayed at the cuffs, and he lifted his head timidly to look at them. Liu Xianglan pressed her lips together and said,
“This is Yuming’s son.”
Fang’s mother felt her mind buzz violently. Her hand nearly slipped from the doorframe, her heart turning over as she almost lost her balance.
“Yuming’s… son?” Her voice trembled as she repeated the question, barely daring to believe it.
Liu Xianglan nodded quickly.
“When Yuming returned to the city, I didn’t know I was pregnant. I only found out later. I went to the educated-youth office in the commune to ask, but they absolutely refused to tell me Yuming’s address. Shanghai is enormous—just where could a country woman like me find him?”
Fang’s mother sneered inwardly. Of course the old man had already instructed Pengcheng not to reveal a word. He was afraid she’d come cling to them—sure enough, it happened exactly as he feared.
Seeing the skepticism on Fang’s mother’s face, Liu Xianglan hurried to explain,
“Last month, a former educated youth who used to stay in our village returned for a visit. I asked him to inquire for me, and that’s how I finally found out where Yuming lives.”
Fang’s mother’s gaze fell on the small boy. His features did vaguely resemble Yuming’s. But they had never raised this child even for a day—who knew what background he truly had?
Suppressing the panic pounding in her chest, she gritted her teeth and asked,
“So what exactly did you come here today to do?”
Liu Xianglan lifted her chin slightly, gaze firm.
“Xiaolei is older now. I can’t let him end up like me, stuck in the countryside forever. His father is a city man, so he’s a city child. I want to bring him to your family—to return him to his roots.”
Fang’s mother felt a wave of suffocation hit her. It took her a long moment to breathe.
She understood very clearly: Liu Xianglan must not be allowed to cause a scene at their doorstep. If the neighbors started gossiping, who knew how big the trouble would get?
So she forced a smile.
“Don’t be anxious. Wait here for a while.”
She rushed into the house, pulled open a drawer, and grabbed her wallet. She called to Su Niannian,
“Niannian, even though you didn’t go to school today, you still need to finish your homework, understand? Grandma has something to take care of. Stay inside and behave, alright?”
Su Niannian looked up at her grandmother’s flustered steps and anxious face, her heart tightening.
Something big must have happened.
Fang’s mother took out a few dozen yuan and stuffed it into Liu Xianglan’s hand.
“At the end of this alley, there’s a small inn. Go stay there first. When Yuming gets off work, I’ll send him to see you. Alright?”
Liu Xianglan hesitated, fingers tightening around the money as if wanting to say something, but Fang’s mother glared sharply, leaving no room for argument. Liu Xianglan had no choice but to take the boy and walk toward the alley entrance.
Once their figures disappeared, Fang’s mother pressed a hand to her chest—her heart pounding in terror.
The September sun was scorching, heating the stones on the roadside. She walked quickly, trembling inside.
After turning a corner, she reached the gate of Textile Factory No. 17. The bulletin board read “Increase Production, Reduce Waste, Ensure Quality.” Workers pushed bicycles past her.
She ignored everything else and strode straight into the office building. The guard didn’t stop her, knowing she was the deputy director’s wife.
When she pushed open the office door, Fang’s father was bent over paperwork, reading glasses perched on his nose. He looked up in surprise.
“What are you doing here at this hour? Did something happen at home?”
Fang’s mother’s heart was pounding uncontrollably. She quickly closed the door and locked it with a click.
“Liu Xianglan came to the house.”
Fang’s father froze. “Who?”
“Liu Xianglan! The one from Pengcheng—the one from before!” she snapped.
“Oh.” Fang’s father’s expression darkened instantly.
“Call Qing over right away. Our whole family needs to discuss this,” she said, her voice trembling.
Soon, Fang Yuqing pushed open the door. Her shirt sleeves were rolled up, and she carried the heat of the workshop with her.
Fang’s mother relayed everything that had happened at the doorway.
Fang’s father didn’t speak for a long time. Only after a lengthy silence did he finally ask,
“You mean… you didn’t tell me there was a boy?”
Fang’s mother stomped her foot in frustration.
“What does that matter? The point is—Liu Xianglan is here!”
Fang Yuqing frowned, deep in thought.
“From the way she talks, it doesn’t sound like she wants to stay herself. She only wants us to acknowledge the child and take him in.”
Fang’s father nodded, his brows easing slightly.
“Qing is right. She just wants to return the boy.”
“You make it sound so simple!” Fang’s mother snapped. “Do you know what Minzhi is like? Even though she moved to Guangzhou years ago, her father is now a commander! And you expect Minzhi to accept this child? Impossible!”
Fang Yuqing asked quietly, “Does my brother know yet?”
At that, Fang’s mother’s heart clenched. She turned to Fang’s father urgently.
“Quick, call Yuming and tell him to come at once. No—don’t let him return home. Tell him to go straight to the inn. We’ll all go there and see what Liu Xianglan really wants.”
Fang’s father nodded, picked up the office phone, and dialed the Planning Bureau.
Fang Yuming hung up the phone, stunned in his seat. His palms grew slick with sweat. His mind roared blankly.
Only one thought repeated over and over—
Minzhi must never find out!
He rushed out of the office. By the time he reached the inn, his parents and sister were already there. The dim little room smelled damp and musty.
Liu Xianglan sat on the edge of the bed. The small boy huddled close to her, staring timidly at the door.
When she heard footsteps, Liu Xianglan looked up. Her gaze landed on Fang Yuming—blue shirt, calm expression, refined demeanor. He hadn’t changed at all.
Her eyes flickered with complexity.
Back then, when she insisted on marrying him, her parents had tried to stop her, saying he would eventually return to the city and she shouldn’t be foolish. But she didn’t listen—she fell too deep.
She pressed her lips together and nudged the boy beside her.
“Xiaolei, call your father. This is your dad.”
The little boy lifted his head, staring at Yuming with dark, unreadable eyes.
He opened his mouth.
“…Dad.”
Then immediately lowered his head again, clutching his pant legs tightly.
That single word landed in the room like a thunderclap.
Fang Yuming felt his mind explode. He stood frozen.
Dad?
Who was he calling dad?