Zhou Zhiyu’s expression was icy as she prepared to scold him—how could anyone joke about something as serious as a vasectomy? But then Zhou Jinghuai abruptly changed his tone: "Then again, who knows? In a couple of years, if we change our minds, we could always reverse it."
Zhou Zhiyu exhaled in relief. "Good. You two should still think it over carefully. I’ve heard that if you’re going to do it, it’s best to do it sooner rather than later—higher success rate."
Watching Zhou Zhiyu relent, Li Sui couldn’t help but admire Zhou Jinghuai’s diplomatic finesse.
It was like negotiating—first, you make an outrageous demand, one that’s impossible to meet, then you scale it back to something more reasonable. That way, the second request seems far more acceptable.
But Zhou Jinghuai had done the opposite. He’d slammed the door shut first, then dangled a symbolic carrot—just enough to make people forget the original demand as they fixated on the possibility of that carrot.
"Li Sui, what do you think?" Zhou Zhiyu clearly hadn’t given up and was now turning her focus to Li Sui.
"I…" Li Sui didn’t know how to respond.
Zhou Jinghuai could reject his mother’s suggestion without hesitation, but Li Sui couldn’t. To the Zhou family, her grandfather had been their benefactor, but to her, Zhou Zhiyu—who had funded her education and supported her grandfather through his illness—was just as much her savior.
"Mom." Zhou Jinghuai interrupted Zhou Zhiyu again.
She shot him an impatient glare. "What now?"
"Didn’t you say you had a video conference at four-thirty?"
Zhou Zhiyu’s eyes widened in realization. A glance at the clock confirmed it was already 4:25.
"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Only work could make Zhou Zhiyu momentarily set everything else aside. She hurried upstairs.
Li Sui felt as if a weight had been lifted.
Since Li Sui needed to get to the market, dinner was served early. By six, she was ready to leave and open her stall.
She had planned to take a taxi, but Zhou Zhiyu insisted Zhou Jinghuai drive her. Unable to refuse the offer—and having a few things she wanted to discuss with him—Li Sui relented.
As she picked up her shopping bag and reached for her canvas shoes, her gaze flickered to the high heels she’d just taken off.
Knowing Zhou Zhiyu was watching, Li Sui hesitated for a moment before slipping the heels back on and tucking the canvas shoes into their box.
Under Zhou Zhiyu’s approving gaze, she descended the front steps with deliberate slowness.
The twenty-minute drive was unusually quiet. Li Sui sensed he was lost in thought.
She wasn’t one to avoid difficult conversations, so she broke the silence. But calling him "brother" felt wrong, and "husband" was too awkward. In the end, she settled for his full name.
"Zhou Jinghuai, thank you. For earlier."
"For what?"
"For helping me out of that situation." She hesitated, then asked, "But… that thing about the vasectomy—was it true?"
"Not right now. But it might be in the future."
"Oh." Li Sui didn’t press further. After all, it wouldn’t concern her by then.
Besides, there was a more pressing matter at hand.
"Honestly, this can’t go on forever. Mom’s been wanting a granddaughter for ages. Do you have time soon? Maybe we should finalize the divorce? I’ll take full responsibility with Mom." She fiddled with her fingers, her voice sincere. "And I owe you a proper apology. Back then… I really was too impulsive."
"Not right now."
"Why not?"
Zhou Jinghuai’s tone was indifferent. "I’m too famous at the moment."
Li Sui: ?
The audacity.
"If we get divorced right after that scandal, and someone catches wind of it—forget what my mother would think, the board would have my head."
True. Even Li Sui could imagine the media frenzy. And the actress involved might be wrongly labeled a homewrecker. No need to drag an innocent person into this.
"Fine," she conceded. "Just let me know when you think the coast is clear. I’ll be ready whenever."
"Mm." Zhou Jinghuai responded quietly.
She usually entered the market from the north gate, but the south gate had better parking, so Li Sui directed Zhou Jinghuai there.
It was only when they arrived that she noticed the bustling scene outside the market—not just the shops inside, but also rows of makeshift stalls lining the street.
There were young entrepreneurs and elderly vendors alike.
Through the car window, Li Sui’s eyes were drawn to an elderly woman in the corner. She looked to be in her sixties or seventies, dressed simply, her hair wrapped in a colorful scarf, a gentle smile on her face.
What caught Li Sui’s attention most was that the woman was also selling sugar paintings. A small tan dog lay quietly beside her, keeping her company.
The sight instantly reminded Li Sui of her grandfather.
From the moment she could remember, he had been her only family.
A three-wheeled cart had carried them to every corner of the city. While her grandfather worked, Li Sui would sit beside him, waiting patiently.
Though he lived frugally, he gave her the best he could—handmade dresses and cloth shoes, even braiding her hair neatly.
Customers who bought sugar paintings often complimented her cuteness, and she never shied away from returning the favor—"You’re so pretty, sister!" or "You’re so handsome, brother!"—always charming passersby into buying something.
They’d been chased off before, but her grandfather was eternally optimistic. Even when forced to leave, he’d just chuckle and reassure her, sometimes even buying her a small cake on the way home, pretending it was a gift from the "uncle" who’d shooed them away.
The memories of her childhood were so vivid, it felt like yesterday.
Yet everything had changed.
"Hey! What are you doing here?"
A loud voice outside the window snapped Li Sui out of her thoughts. She realized the car had stopped.
Turning to grab her shoe bag from the back seat, she instinctively reached to change her shoes—but after a brief hesitation, she withdrew her hand.
She opened the door to step out, but before her right foot touched the ground, Zhou Jinghuai caught her wrist.
Puzzled, she looked back at him. His expression was unreadable as he said, "Change your shoes."
"Why?" Li Sui refused without hesitation. "I like these new ones. They’re pretty."
Zhou Jinghuai studied her for a few seconds before taking the bag from her hand and getting out of the car.
He circled to the passenger side, turning her toward him.
His left hand closed around her ankle, the heat of his touch making her instinctively pull back. But today, Zhou Jinghuai was unyielding—her resistance was futile.
Her toes, cramped in the narrow confines of the heels, wriggled uncomfortably.
In one swift motion, Zhou Jinghuai pulled off the shoes and tossed them into the box. The dull thuds made Li Sui wince—that was at least a four-figure loss.
She hadn’t complained about the discomfort earlier because, at the end of the day, Zhou Jinghuai was still part of the Zhou family.
Bantering with him was one thing, but if word got back to Zhou Zhiyu that she’d been ungrateful about the gift, it would reflect poorly on her.
She had no idea how Zhou Jinghuai had seen through her, but since she’d already been caught, she might as well come clean.
"Don’t tell Mom. I don’t want to disappoint her."
"It’s her fault for not figuring out your preferences before giving you a gift."
"…" Li Sui couldn’t help but think—no wonder Zhou Jinghuai’s mental state was so stable. He seemed like the type who’d rather blame others than torment himself.
"It’s not that I don’t like it, I’m just not used to wearing it, and it’s not very practical. The market’s all cobblestone paths—I’d probably twist my ankle after a few steps."
Zhou Jinghuai kept his head down, his expression unreadable, silently helping her into her canvas shoes. His fingers were long and well-defined, even the way he tied the laces made it seem like he was handling a piece of art.
Finally, he looked up and sighed helplessly.
"Li Sui."
"Yeah?"
"You’re pretty articulate now. Why couldn’t you say any of this in front of my mom?"
She had no reason to force herself—whether it was wearing a pair of shoes.
Or marrying a person.
But sometimes Zhou Jinghuai wondered—what right did he have to say such things? Wasn’t he the same?
He knew she hadn’t been rational back then, knew her heart belonged to someone else, yet he’d still played the role of prey and barged into her life.
That night, rain began to fall again, a soft, steady patter.
Li Sui propped her chin on her hand, watching the raindrops hit the cobblestones, sending up tiny splashes like fireworks blooming against the gloomy sky.
Zhou Jinghuai’s words played on a loop in her mind, but what lingered wasn’t the content—it was the unusually solemn tone and expression he’d worn.
In the few interactions Li Sui had shared with Zhou Jinghuai, this version of him was undeniably unfamiliar.
She still remembered their first meeting vividly.
It was nearly six years ago, in the sweltering heat of July.
She hadn’t yet started summer break, and her grandfather’s outdoor sugar painting stall couldn’t open due to the unbearable temperatures. A shopkeeper he knew had given him a ticket to a scenic spot, and not wanting it to go to waste, he’d gone alone.
But it was at that rarely visited attraction that he’d unexpectedly rescued five-year-old Zhou Jingcheng, who’d slipped and fallen into the water.
To express her gratitude, Zhou Zhiyu specially invited the grandfather and granddaughter to the Zhou family home.
Zhou Jingcheng, still shaken from the scare, had gone to bed early with the nanny. At the dinner table, aside from Li Sui and her grandfather, there were only Zhou Zhiyu and Zhou Jinghuai, who’d just returned from abroad for summer break.
Noticing Li Sui hadn’t eaten much, Zhou Zhiyu warmly picked up a large chicken leg from the clay pot and offered it to her. "Sui Sui, you’re already full after eating so little? Try this."
Remembering her grandfather’s repeated warnings before they arrived—to be obedient, to mind her manners—Li Sui quickly waved her hands. "Auntie, I’m really full. I can’t eat anymore."
"Just this little bit?" Zhou Zhiyu didn’t insist, setting down her chopsticks and patting Li Sui’s hand sympathetically. "No wonder you’re so thin, eating so little."
Li Sui smiled shyly.
"By the way, where are your parents? Why didn’t they come with you?"
"I—"
Before Li Sui could finish, her grandfather cut in. "Her parents passed away in a car accident when she was little. She’s been with me ever since."
"Oh." Zhou Zhiyu’s face filled with remorse. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up."
"It’s okay, Auntie."
"You’re such a sweet girl. I wish I had a daughter—too bad my ex-husband was useless and only gave me two sons." Zhou Zhiyu sighed regretfully, then suddenly brightened. "Hey, Sui Sui, how about you call me godmother? Would you like that?"
Li Sui’s heart skipped. Instinctively, she looked at her grandfather.
"Well…" Her grandfather hesitated briefly, but under Zhou Zhiyu’s enthusiastic urging, he quickly agreed, beaming as he told Li Sui to greet her properly.
Li Sui never let herself be taken advantage of by outsiders, but she had one flaw—when it came to people she considered important, she had a habit of being "obedient."
After all, in her life, the number of people who truly mattered to her could be counted on one hand.
So, seeing her grandfather nod, Li Sui immediately called out, "Godmother."
"Yes!" Delight spilled from Zhou Zhiyu’s eyes as she gestured toward Zhou Jinghuai. "From now on, he’s your brother. If you ever need anything, just ask him."
Unlike his warm-hearted mother, Zhou Jinghuai had been indifferent throughout the entire meal, not saying a single word.
Only now, dragged into the spotlight, did he finally lift his gaze to glance at Li Sui.
Their eyes met directly.
His dark eyes were cool, almost detached. Li Sui felt a lump in her throat, struggling for a long moment before forcing out a single word: "Brother."
Zhou Jinghuai gave a slight nod to acknowledge her, then went back to eating without another word.
Li Sui figured he was probably upset—his share of maternal affection had just been inexplicably reduced.
After dinner, Zhou Zhiyu and her grandfather played chess late into the night. By the time they finished, it was already past midnight. Seeing the rain outside, Zhou Zhiyu warmly insisted they stay over.
But the consequence of starving herself at dinner was that, once back in the guest room, Li Sui’s stomach growled with hunger.
Too hungry to sleep, yet unwilling to eat anything from the Zhou household, she checked the time—it was pitch-black outside, everyone was probably asleep. She glanced at the balance in her Alipay.
58.36 yuan.
After much deliberation, she finally caved and ordered a bowl of wontons—discount applied, just 9.9 yuan.
Afraid the delivery person’s knock might wake the others, Li Sui tracked the order on the map. The moment the courier was within a hundred meters, she slipped downstairs to wait by the front gate.
Even in the dead of night, the summer heat clung stubbornly. Not wanting to be caught, and planning to toss the trash outside afterward, Li Sui didn’t go back inside. Instead, she circled to the backyard and settled on a swing, cradling the small bowl of wontons as she ate, savoring each bite.
The only downside was that she didn’t know where the backyard light switch was. Under the dim moonlight, she could barely make out the wontons in her bowl, and she had to keep shaking her legs to fend off the relentless mosquitoes.
Halfway through her meal, a sudden beam of light cut through the darkness.
Startled, Li Sui looked up toward the source.
Zhou Jinghuai stood on the second-floor balcony, dressed in black sleepwear, watching her with an impassive expression. His right hand still rested on the light switch.
Caught red-handed, embarrassment flooded her. Gripping her spoon, she straightened and blurted out, "I bought this with my own money."
After a pause, she added, less confidently, "Don’t… tell them."
Compared to his aloofness at dinner, Zhou Jinghuai now seemed almost amused. Leaning against the railing, he chuckled. "You’re quite the generous one."
Before Li Sui could process his words, he continued lazily:
"Feeding yourself wontons while treating the mosquitoes to a full-course banquet."
"…"
During dinner, Li Sui’s first impression of Zhou Jinghuai had been: Handsome. Too bad he doesn’t talk.
Now, it had shifted to: Handsome. Too bad he talks.
This impression led to her being far less warm and polite toward Zhou Jinghuai than she was with the rest of the Zhou family in their sparse interactions over the years.
But looking back now, Li Sui realized there was one detail she’d completely overlooked at the time.
That is, as he turned to go inside, he left the light on.
He kept the light burning for her in the darkness.
And from the very beginning, he guarded all her secrets.
