"Dad, Mom, we're home—"
Sang Lu pressed the doorbell and chirped excitedly.
A moment later, the door cracked open, releasing the tantalizing aroma of caramelized pork ribs.
Sang Changfeng pulled the door wide, still wearing his cooking apron. When he saw his daughter and her towering husband standing at the doorstep, he froze briefly before breaking into a warm smile.
"You're back! Come in, come in..."
Lin Yueyin hurried over at the sound of their voices. Peeking out and spotting them, her face lit up with the same joy as her husband's.
"Oh my, why did you bring gifts? Really... Go sit on the sofa. I’ll get you some fruit—just halfway through washing them."
Lin Yueyin bustled away as quickly as she had arrived, still preoccupied with the fruit.
Feng Yan, a man accustomed to all kinds of situations, hesitated for a few seconds. Before he could react, Sang Lu had already grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, her long legs carrying her effortlessly into the unfamiliar space.
The Sang household was a bright, cozy three-bedroom apartment, neat and welcoming.
The floor wasn’t too high, and from the window, one could see the lush treetops outside.
Lin Yueyin had spent the entire day preparing for their arrival—vacuuming the carpets, changing the water in the fish tank, and even rushing to the flower market early in the morning to buy a bouquet of pink-gold tulips, now displayed in a transparent vase with a five-cent coin sunk at the bottom.
Feng Yan’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the vibrant traces of everyday life.
Potted plants were neatly arranged in the corner of the balcony, and bedsheets hung on the clothesline, basking in the sunlight and exuding a warm, comforting scent.
Amidst this homely atmosphere, Feng Yan’s usual cool, aloof demeanor softened slightly, his black shirt bathed in the gentle glow of the setting sun.
When Lin Yueyin returned with the washed fruit, this was the scene that greeted her—
Her daughter sat cross-legged on the sofa, leaning against the backrest, chewing on a piece of caramelized pork ribs she’d sneakily snatched from the kitchen.
Beside her, her dignified and reserved son-in-law sat with his tall frame looking slightly cramped on the sofa, his long legs slightly apart, one hand resting on the armrest—a stark contrast to the carefree girl beside him, happily gnawing on her ribs.
"Can’t you sit properly?" Lin Yueyin scolded Sang Lu with a laugh. "Straighten up!"
Sang Lu paused mid-bite, blinking in confusion.
She couldn’t help grumbling inwardly: Mom, don’t you sit like this at home too? You even put your feet on Dad’s lap sometimes. Why single me out?
Besides, she was sitting properly—at least by her standards.
There was no way she’d ever dare to plop her feet onto Feng Yan’s lap.
Just imagining that surreal scene made her feel like Feng Yan’s sharp gaze would pierce right through her.
She quickly shook off the thought.
Nope, not going there.
Lin Yueyin settled into a nearby armchair, shooting Sang Lu an affectionate eye-roll before turning to Feng Yan.
"We’ve spoiled her rotten. Feng Yan, Sang Lu’s stubbornness must give you quite the headache, huh?"
Feng Yan’s gaze shifted from Sang Lu’s slightly stunned face.
His brows relaxed, his eyes gentle, his tone calm.
"Not at all."
Lin Yueyin’s eyes sparkled with delight.
Wow!
He spoke! He actually spoke!
Though she’d heard from Sang Lu that Feng Yan could talk, hearing it in person was entirely different.
The last lingering worry in her heart finally dissipated.
When she’d first learned that her daughter was to marry Feng Yan in accordance with the childhood betrothal arranged by their grandfathers, Lin Yueyin had secretly shed tears more than once.
No matter how wealthy the Feng family was, or how close the elders were, the fact remained—her daughter was marrying a mute.
Now, seeing Feng Yan speak as naturally as anyone else, Lin Yueyin couldn’t have been happier.
No, not just "as naturally"—he was exceptional in every way, from his looks to his height.
And clearly, this son-in-law had good manners too.
From the way he’d answered "Not at all" without hesitation, Lin Yueyin, with her years of experience in managing her husband, could tell at a glance that Feng Yan would never mistreat Sang Lu in their daily life.
As the saying goes, a mother-in-law’s fondness for her son-in-law grows with each glance.
Beaming, Lin Yueyin chatted with the two, asking after Old Master Feng’s health.
While her mother conversed with Feng Yan, Sang Lu observed quietly.
Though she knew Feng Yan made an effort to tone down his authoritative aura around elders, traces of it still seeped through occasionally.
Like now, when he responded to her mother’s questions with his usual CEO-style brevity—"Mm," "Yes"—Lin Yueyin would pause for a second, momentarily stumped, before picking up the conversation again.
Sang Lu found it amusing.
It reminded her of herself.
She’d been the same way at first, constantly caught off guard by this ice sculpture’s frosty demeanor, unsure how to respond.
But now, she’d adapted.
These days, even if Feng Yan stayed silent, she could chatter away without a care in the world.
From the kitchen, Sang Changfeng called out intermittently amid the sizzle of stir-frying.
"Feng Yan, do you eat spicy food?"
"Feng Yan, Sang Lu hates scallions, so I’ll leave them out of the dishes."
"Oh, Sang Lu, I bought your favorite juice. Grab a bottle from the fridge—get one for Feng Yan too."
"Ugh, he’s getting so chatty in his old age," Lin Yueyin finally muttered, standing up. "He’s bored cooking alone. Sang Lu, Feng Yan, you two relax. I’ll go keep him company in the kitchen. How can two dishes take this long?"
Grumbling, she headed toward the kitchen.
Left alone in the living room, Sang Lu and Feng Yan turned to look at each other simultaneously.
Their eyes met.
Sang Lu snorted a laugh.
"My parents are way too enthusiastic. Does it feel awkward or overwhelming?"
Feng Yan replied evenly, "No."
From Sang Lu’s perspective, the long-limbed man looked almost comically out of place on the small sofa, as if he were enduring it with quiet suffering.
Her eyes crinkled with amusement as she stood up.
"Let me give you a tour of my home."
On a whim, Sang Lu playfully mimicked the mannerisms of Uncle Yue, the butler of the Feng family’s ancestral home, bending slightly at the waist and sweeping her arm in a grand gesture.
"Young Master—ahem—"
She pretended to straighten an imaginary tie, dragging out her words in a mischievous tone.
"CEO Feng, please follow me..."
Feng Yan stilled, his gaze fixed on her.
He’d noticed—when teasing him, she liked to call him "CEO Feng."
The next moment, "CEO Feng’s" expression softened, his eyes glinting with amusement as he stood, playing along.
His sharp jawline dipped slightly in a nod, and his long legs carried him forward.
Neither of them noticed...
At that very moment.
Two heads slowly peeked out from behind the kitchen door.
Lin Yueyin and Sang Changfeng watched the scene unfold, exchanging a knowing, satisfied smile.
