Chu'he had a happy family.
Her seven-year-old son, Chongyang, was well-behaved and obedient. Even though he had albinism and looked different from others, Chu'he loved him dearly. In her eyes, her child was undoubtedly the best in the world.
Her husband was also quite handsome—his good looks naturally lifted her spirits whenever she saw him. However, his name didn’t quite match his striking appearance.
Song Tieniu—the name sounded simple and unadorned.
His temperament was excellent too. He took care of all the cooking and household chores himself, without a trace of male chauvinism. All Chu'he had to do was play with Chongyang.
While waiting for Song Tieniu to finish cooking, Chu'he took Chongyang to sit on the doorstep and play cat’s cradle.
Chongyang had never played this game before, and his fingers were clumsy.
Chu'he patiently guided him, her nimble fingers weaving the ordinary cotton thread as if it had come to life, swiftly forming a delicate net.
"Look, you loop it like this, then thread it through here," she said softly, watching as Chongyang frowned in concentration, his fingers tangling the thread. She couldn’t help but laugh. "Don’t rush. Take your time. Everyone struggles at first."
Chongyang stared intently at her flying fingers, his small face serious as he slowly mimicked her movements. Though still fumbling, his eyes sparkled with growing interest.
When he finally managed to form the net, he looked up, his eyes bright with excitement. "Mama, I did it!"
Chu'he ruffled his hair and smiled. "Chongyang is amazing! You’re the most incredible little treasure in the whole world!"
The words "little treasure" made Chongyang’s ears turn red. Shy but delighted, his voice trembled with joy.
"Me... treasure?"
Chu'he nodded. "Yes!"
"Me... precious?"
She nodded emphatically again. "Absolutely!"
Chongyang froze for a moment, then his cheeks flushed crimson. He lowered his head, his small hands nervously twisting the hem of his clothes, his shoulders trembling—not from sadness, but from barely contained happiness.
After a long pause, he finally looked up, his voice timid yet brimming with joy. "Mama... can you hold me?"
Before he even finished speaking, Chu'he had already scooped him into her arms, settling him on her lap. Chongyang stared up at her, dazed and unblinking.
Chu'he couldn’t resist. Her heart melted, and she hugged him tightly, planting a kiss on his soft cheek. "How did I get such an adorable child?"
Chongyang’s eyes shimmered, his lips curling uncontrollably into a smile, his chubby cheeks puffing up like he was holding a sweet piece of candy.
Chu'he seemed endlessly fascinated by the fact that she had a child. She couldn’t stop hugging and kissing Chongyang, touching him here and there, utterly enchanted.
To others, Chongyang might have been seen as a strange, frightening creature, but in Chu'he’s eyes, he was a soft, sweet little dumpling. Every touch from her sent a ticklish warmth through his body.
Chu'he glanced toward the house. "Your father’s working alone in the kitchen. Do you think I should go help?"
Chongyang shook his head. "Papa cooks... no problem."
Chu'he asked, "Is it good?"
He nodded. "Good."
Chu'he felt slightly dazed. Ever since waking up, her mind had been foggy. She did have many memories of their happy family life, but whenever she tried to recall more, a dull ache throbbed in her head.
It was as if a voice in her subconscious warned her not to dig into the memories hidden behind the mist—only then could she live happily.
Holding Chongyang’s small hand, she gently played with his fingers and asked, "I feel like I’ve forgotten a lot of things. Do you know why, Chongyang?"
"Mama... was sick," he said. "Now... better."
Chu'he touched her head. "Was I very sick before?"
"Very sick," he confirmed.
"I see."
She didn’t dwell on it further and resumed playing cat’s cradle with Chongyang. Before long, Song Tieniu called them in for dinner.
He effortlessly picked up Chongyang first, then reached for Chu'he’s hand—only for her to smack it away with a sharp "smack!"
Both froze in surprise.
Chu'he quickly apologized. "Sorry."
It had been an instinctive reaction, one she couldn’t explain.
Song Tieniu, ever mild-tempered, simply smiled. "It’s fine. Let’s eat."
She stood up on her own, glanced at her hand, then followed him inside.
True to his reputation as a homemaker, Song Tieniu had prepared three dishes and a soup all by himself. Watching him set the table and serve the rice, Chu'he couldn’t help but think how remarkably domestic he looked.
Maybe she had married him precisely because he was handsome, a good cook, and even-tempered.
After all, who would want a man who looked odd, couldn’t cook, and had a terrible temper?
Chu'he placed a piece of meat in Chongyang’s bowl first. He eagerly shoveled the food into his mouth, eating with such relish that her own appetite surged.
As Song Tieniu ladled soup for her, he said, "You’ve just recovered, love. Later, I’ll go hunt a rabbit in the mountains to make stew and nourish you. Stay home with Chongyang—if you get bored, you can take him to Chunming’s place to play."
"Got it," Chu'he replied, accepting the bowl. She took a sip of the soup—then immediately set it down, her face turning ashen as she covered her mouth, as if suffocating.
Song Tieniu panicked. "Love, what’s wrong?"
Chu'he gasped out, "Did you... poison the soup?"
"What? No!"
She couldn’t hold on any longer and collapsed onto the table.
The room erupted into chaos—Song Tieniu’s frantic calls of "Love!" mingling with Chongyang’s cries of "Mama!"
Chu'he, having only just "recovered," couldn’t withstand the ordeal. The soup burned her throat, triggering violent coughs that felt like she might vomit her organs out.
Song Tieniu quickly helped her to bed, then turned to Chongyang. "I’ll fetch the doctor. Stay here and take care of Mama, alright?"
Chongyang nodded obediently.
Gripping the bedframe, Chu'he rasped, "Cough... Chongyang... water..."
He dashed to the kitchen, poured a cup of water, and hurried back.
After gulping it down, Chu'he barely suppressed the unbearable taste, wiping the tears the coughing had forced out. Weakly, she asked, "Earlier, when you said I’d been very sick... was it because of your father’s cooking?"
Chongyang lowered his head, fidgeting with his fingers, unsure how to answer.
The village was small, so Song Tieniu soon returned with the doctor. As the sound of jingling bells approached, Chu'he couldn’t help but glance out the window.
