Song Xinya carefully weighed her words, figuring out how to respond to Qin Yuhe. But before she could say anything, her loudmouth brother Song Tingye blurted everything out: “Han Jingyi comes from the most prestigious medical family in the capital. The biggest and most luxurious private hospital in the country is run by his family. Besides hospitals, they also operate high-end nursing homes and deal in medical equipment. Most importantly, he and my sister are really close—he’s always looked out for her. They grew up together as childhood sweethearts.”
“Childhood sweethearts, really close, such an important person,” Qin Yuhe’s deep, probing gaze fell on Song Xinya. “Mrs. Qin, how come you never mentioned him?”
Song Xinya: “...”
Her scalp tingled.
“I’m already married. Why would I bring him up for no reason?”
Qin Yuhe: “He’s taken such good care of you. I ought to go pay him a visit with some gifts to thank him properly.”
Song Xinya: “......”
“That was in the past, when we were kids. He’s been abroad for years. I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
Qin Yuhe asked sharply, “Who were you having coffee with yesterday?”
Song Xinya’s mouth clamped shut.
What she really meant was that she hadn’t kept in touch with him since he went abroad.
Qin Yuhe’s eyes swept over the handbag she was carrying. “If you’re not in touch, how did he manage to send you a Hermès? He must be pretty impressive to send gifts across the miles.”
Finally, the clueless Song Tingye realized something was off. “Did I just say something wrong?”
Song Xinya: “No, you only nearly got your sister killed.”
Grandma walked over and stood beside Qin Yuhe. “Little He, are you and Yaya arguing?”
Qin Yuhe gave Grandma a warm, gentle smile. “Grandma, we’re just having a little verbal sparring.”
“A little verbal sparring...” Grandma pondered the phrase for a moment, didn’t quite get it, then let it go.
She gave up on unraveling the mystery, choosing instead to enjoy the bliss of ignorance. There were plenty of things in this world she didn’t understand; trying to figure them all out would be exhausting.
Grandma looked at Qin Yuhe with kind, admiring eyes. “It’s been a while, Little He. You’re still as handsome as ever.”
Qin Yuhe’s smile became even more dazzling. “If anyone else praised me like that, I’d take it in stride. But in front of you, Grandma, I can’t accept such a compliment. You’re truly beautiful. Compared to you, I pale in comparison.”
Grandma beamed with joy. “Oh, stop it! I’m not that good-looking.”
Qin Yuhe continued, “Everyone says Yaya is stunningly gorgeous. She takes after you—your genes run through her. So of course you’re timelessly elegant.”
Song Xinya glanced at him in surprise. He’d been sparring with her moments ago, and now he was praising her. He was really saving face for her.
Qin Yuhe’s gaze flickered past Song Xinya as he gently took Grandma’s arm and led her toward the bed.
He helped her sit down. Grandma asked, “Little He, did you just arrive?”
Qin Yuhe replied, “I got hurt recently and had to go to the hospital, so I couldn’t come with Yaya.”
In one sentence, he explained why he hadn’t come with Song Xinya while also showing his sincerity in visiting Grandma despite his injury.
Grandma frowned, concerned. “Where were you hurt? What happened?”
Qin Yuhe said, “I got a cut on my abdomen. A few stitches. It’s nothing serious.”
Grandma’s face wrinkled with worry. “That must hurt so much.”
Qin Yuhe looked at her with sincere eyes. “It did hurt at first, but the moment I saw you, Grandma, the pain went away.”
The room filled with Grandma’s laughter—bright and carefree, a rare sound since she had fallen ill.
Song Tingye watched Grandma and Qin Yuhe chatting so fondly and muttered, “Grandma doesn’t even recognize her own grandson, but she remembers her son-in-law so well.”
Song Xinya said, “Isn’t it obvious? Little He is handsome and knows how to sweet-talk.”
Song Tingye protested, “I’m handsome too, and I can sweet-talk!”
Song Xinya shot him a look. “Your worthless mouth is a mix of poison and bitterness—like arsenic and bitter melon rolled into one.”
Song Tingye, who had just put his foot in his mouth, said, “...Let’s drop the mouth thing for now. What about looks? I’m the heartthrob of No. 1 High School in the capital!”
Song Tingyou stepped in as the voice of reason. “Bro, you’re good-looking too, but compared to brother-in-law, you’re like a primitive ape, while he’s a modern human who’s already mastered tool-making.”
Song Tingye spread his legs, planted his hands on his hips, and raised his voice. “Who knew you were so good at history? Do you want to get yourself killed?!”
Song Tingyou picked up an apple and stuffed it in her mouth. “I’ll just stick to eating fruit.”
Song Xinya also picked up an apple, intending to peel one for Grandma, but she saw that Qin Yuhe was already doing it.
The rosy red apple lay against his cool, pale, slender fingers. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting stark white, vivid red, and strong, defined knuckles into a scene that looked like a rich, vibrant oil painting.
The fruit knife glided across the apple from top to bottom in one smooth motion, never breaking. A long, unbroken peel sat coiled on the table—when stretched out, it could still form the shape of a whole apple.
Song Xinya tugged at the peel and sighed in admiration. “Your apple-peeling skills are amazing.”
Qin Yuhe said, “I’ve always been a stickler for finishing what I start. Unlike some people, who are half-hearted.”
Song Xinya froze. Wait—was he calling her out?
Who was half-hearted? Not her. Hmph!
She was fuming silently when a piece of pristine, white apple flesh appeared before her eyes.
She looked up and saw Qin Yuhe’s face.
He held the apple out to her. “For you.”
Song Xinya turned her head away. “I don’t want it.”
Qin Yuhe glanced around. Grandma was eating the other half of the apple, and Song Tingye and Song Tingyou were busy eating grapes with their heads down.
He bit down on the apple, leaned over, and brought his face close to hers, pressing the apple against her lips.
Song Xinya turned her head back and saw his lips, glistening with apple juice. Her heart fluttered.
Was he really this bold? With so many people in the room, was he feeding her from his mouth?
Qin Yuhe’s deep eyes stared at her, firm and unyielding.
Song Xinya opened her mouth and accepted the apple from his lips.
Qin Yuhe reached out and gently stroked her hair.
He went back to chatting with Grandma, occasionally mentioning Song Tingyou’s name and deftly steering the conversation to include her.
His voice was clear, warm, calm, and low—convincing and easy to take to heart.
“Grandma, I know you love silk trees. Coincidentally, I have one in my yard. It was just a sapling when I planted it fourteen years ago, and now it’s grown into a big tree. Kind of like Youyou—three years ago, she was still a little girl, and now she’s all grown up.”
“Sometimes, when I look at that silk tree in the yard, I get this surreal feeling. I still think of it as that little sapling, but fourteen years have passed. It’s grown up, no longer what it used to be.”
“People must look forward and not always keep their memories stuck in the past. Doing so only traps yourself and makes you miss the beautiful moments of being together with your family in the present.”
After paving the way, Qin Yuhe said appropriately, “Grandma is thirsty, Youyou, go pour Grandma a glass of water.”
Song Tingyou carried a glass of warm water, walked up to Grandma, hesitated, and then called out softly, “Grandma.”
Grandma looked at her, her eyes a little dazed, and asked, “Who are you?”
Song Tingyou answered, “I’m Youyou.”
This time, Grandma did not deny it.
