At the sink, Su Wanqing found a small stool and lifted little Shimu onto it.
In the corridor, warm yellow light fell over them, painting a tender, almost peaceful scene of a loving mother and child.
And that was exactly what Gu Hengzhi saw the moment he walked in.
If he didn’t already know what kind of woman she was, he might have been fooled.
The maid took his briefcase and suit jacket. “Sir, dinner is ready.”
“I’ve already eaten,” the man replied flatly, then walked upstairs without another word.
At the dining table.
“Mu Mu, you’re too thin. Eat more—try this, and this too.”
Su Wanqing kept placing food into the little dumpling’s bowl.
In no time, the small, delicate bowl in front of Shimu was piled into a little mountain.
Throughout the entire meal, Su Wanqing barely ate anything herself—she was focused entirely on making sure the child finished his food.
She was surprised by how little he actually ate for someone so small.
The more she thought about it, the more pitiful he seemed… and the more her heart ached.
After dinner, worried he might be too full, she gently touched his slightly distended little stomach.
“Mu Mu, you had cake earlier and ate a lot at dinner. How about I take you for a walk to help digest it?”
Perhaps it was Su Wanqing’s soft, non-threatening expression that made him unable to meet her gaze.
He turned his head awkwardly.
“…Okay.”
The night air was chilly, winter approaching.
Su Wanqing held the little dumpling’s hand as they walked.
After a while, she clearly noticed he was getting tired, but he never said a word—like a little puppet being pulled along by invisible strings.
She led him to a bench and let him sit down.
Then she crouched in front of him, holding his small hand.
“Mu Mu,” she said softly, “I know you dislike me. I’m sorry. I did a lot of things that hurt you before, and I said many horrible things. I was a terrible mother.”
Her voice was slow, each word clear and sincere.
“I never actually hated you. It’s just… this is my first time being a mother. I was scared, and helpless, and I didn’t know what to do. But from now on, I’ll try to be a good mother. Can I?”
Her tone was gentle, almost pleading in its honesty.
The little dumpling’s eyes turned red at the corners, but he stubbornly turned his face away.
Not getting a response, Su Wanqing gently touched the small red mole at the corner of his eye—so much like her own—and smiled softly.
“I will definitely become a qualified mother.”
From the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor of the villa, a tall figure stood watching for a long time.
When they returned home—
“Ugh…”
Shimu suddenly covered his mouth and rushed toward the bathroom.
Su Wanqing was startled and didn’t even have time to change her shoes. “Mu Mu!”
“Ugh—”
Inside the bathroom, Shimu knelt in front of the toilet, vomiting repeatedly.
Su Wanqing knelt beside him, gently patting his back. “Mu Mu, what’s wrong?”
The little boy curled into himself on the floor, eyes tightly shut, brows deeply furrowed, trembling in discomfort.
She quickly ran outside, poured a glass of warm water, and returned to his side.
“Come on, open your mouth. Rinse a little.”
Shimu obeyed weakly, taking a mouthful of water and spitting it out.
“Gu Hengzhi,” a cold voice suddenly came from behind them.
Su Wanqing turned around.
A tall man stood at the doorway, brows tightly furrowed.
“I don’t know,” she said quickly. “He started vomiting as soon as he got home.”
Suddenly—
The child in her arms went limp.
“Mu Mu!”
He fainted.
Gu Hengzhi strode forward, scooping the child up in one motion.
“Call Lu Jin’an,” he ordered the maid coldly.
Su Wanqing immediately followed behind them.