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One word left everyone stunned.
All these years, Jiang Huaiyu had seemed to be immune to girls. No one had ever seen him take an interest in anyone.
In fact, no one had even seen him get close to a girl.
Wen Shuyu paused mid-bite of her cake, waiting patiently for what was to come next. She didn’t believe Aunt Jun could resist asking the obvious question.
Sure enough, Jiang’s mother exchanged a glance with Wen’s mother before cautiously probing, “So, whose daughter is she?”
As Wen Shuyu typed furiously to share the secret with Shen Ruoying, she perked up her ears. Yingying, Yingying! Jiang Huaiyu just said he likes someone!
Shen Ruoying replied instantly: Who is it? Tell me, tell me!
The grand villa fell into a heavy silence as the five people present held their breath, awaiting an answer.
Jiang Huaiyu lazily lifted his gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ll say when it’s confirmed.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Wen Shuyu, who was engrossed in her phone, completely unconcerned by the conversation.
“Well, that’s fair,” Jiang’s mother said, unwilling to press him too hard. “It’s good for a young man to take initiative.”
These two kids, always at odds with each other. She just couldn’t understand young people nowadays.
After the guests left, Wen’s mother unwrapped the purple clay teapot and tea set Jiang Huaiyu had given them. The packaging was meticulous, and the quality was top-tier. It was clearly a thoughtful, carefully selected gift.
Overjoyed, she said, “Huaiyu is such a sweet boy. His gifts are always so well-chosen. It’s a shame we don’t know who he likes.”
Wen Shuyu hadn’t paid much attention to the teapot, but growing up surrounded by fine things, she knew a little about such items.
The teapot was a classic shihpiao design, with bamboo leaves elegantly carved into the smooth clay. The craftsmanship was flawless—seamless, fluid lines, and a perfect fit between lid and body. It was clearly the work of a master artisan.
The tea set was valuable, and the gift showed great consideration—exactly Jiang Huaiyu’s style.
Wen Shuyu smirked. “If you like him so much, why not make him your godson? If he becomes my little brother, I’d be okay with it.”
Her mother shot her a look. “What nonsense are you saying?”
Nearby, Wen’s father carefully placed the teapot on the shelf. But as he stood up, he suddenly felt lightheaded and collapsed.
Wen Shuyu rushed to catch him. “Dad! What’s wrong?”
“Take your medicine,” her mother said gently, handing him a cup of warm water along with the pills. After swallowing them, her father spoke calmly, “Show it to her. She’s going to find out sooner or later.”
Wen Shuyu took the phone from her father, and there it was, written in bold on the screen: Preliminary diagnosis: liver tumor.
A liver tumor!
Her world came crashing down. It felt like a towering building collapsing with no warning, the weight of it all smashing down on her.
She struggled to comprehend those three terrifying words. Each character, when alone, was harmless enough, but together they formed a phrase that felt like a death sentence. Other combinations of words brought peace and happiness, but not this one. This was a disease—a disease feared by every human being.
Taking deep breaths, trying to stay calm, she asked, “Mom, Dad, why did you hide this from me? What did the doctor say? You better not be lying.”
Her father spoke softly, “Fish, don’t worry too much. They caught it during a routine check-up. The doctor says it’s benign. Your mother and I thought we’d have surgery to remove it. We didn’t want to worry you, especially with the anniversary celebration going on.”
They never intended to hide it from her; they had planned to tell her in person.
Still, Wen Shuyu needed to be sure. “You’re not lying to me, right?”
Her mother patted her hand and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Now go get some sleep.”
But the words alone weren’t enough. Not having heard directly from the doctor, Wen Shuyu couldn’t relax. She quickly took screenshots of the diagnosis and CT scan, sending them to her own phone for safekeeping.
She wanted to believe her parents, but trust was hard to come by—especially after reading so many stories online about parents hiding serious conditions from their children.
Once back in her room, Wen Shuyu allowed herself to feel the fear she’d been holding in. Her palms were damp with sweat, her nerves on edge. She shut her eyes, trembling, but images of her father’s diagnosis haunted her. Hands shaking, she downloaded the files and stared blankly at the black-and-white scans. A flood of medical terms—liver lesion, multiple cysts—she knew the words but couldn’t grasp their meaning.
For over twenty years, Wen Shuyu had grown up under the protective wings of her parents, carefree and sheltered. Now, facing her father’s illness, she found herself lost and scared.
It was midnight, and she had no one to turn to. Her closest friends, Shen Ruoying and Meng Xinhao, were wrapped up in their own love story, and her other friends were barely acquaintances. She felt alone in this adult world, where most burdens had to be borne in silence.
She opened the app for Nancheng’s First City Hospital, hoping to find an online consultation, but there were no doctors available at this late hour.
Her father’s illness loomed over her, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the tumor—it could develop into cancer.
Disease doesn’t discriminate.
Suddenly, Wen Shuyu had an idea. She called Jiang Huaiyu. Her voice softened as she asked directly, “Can you send me Zhou Hangyue’s WeChat? I need to ask him something.”
She didn’t want to trouble Jiang Huaiyu unless she had no other choice.
Zhou Hangyue was their high school classmate and Jiang Huaiyu’s best friend. He was now a doctor at the First City Hospital, specializing in oncology and cancer treatment. Although she didn’t particularly like Zhou Hangyue, she knew she needed his expertise now more than ever.
Jiang Huaiyu had heard about her father’s illness, so Wen Shuyu’s tone was unusually polite. “Alright, I’ll send you his contact. Don’t worry too much,” his deep, soothing voice replied, a calm like a stream flowing through the quiet night.
Was he trying to comfort her? Wen Shuyu wasn’t sure.
After messaging Zhou Hangyue, she was immediately added as a friend. She sent him the screenshots and waited anxiously for his response.
Zhou Hangyue didn’t have much of a connection with Wen Shuyu, but Jiang Huaiyu had emphasized that he should take it seriously, especially his attitude. Reluctantly, Zhou Hangyue complied.
Carefully reviewing every detail of the CT and ultrasound scans, he double-checked his conclusions with his mentor, Lu Jin’an, the hospital’s top surgeon.
As Wen Shuyu paced around her room, time seemed to slow to a crawl, as if it were dragging on at half-speed. Finally, a message from Zhou Hangyue arrived: My mentor says the tumor size is within a manageable range. Based on the results, it’s early-stage and benign. Surgery is recommended.
A weight lifted from Wen Shuyu’s chest. Her parents had been telling the truth. She replied, Thank you. I owe you a meal.
Zhou Hangyue responded, It’s no big deal. If you want to thank someone, thank Jiang Huaiyu.
He was helping her mainly because of Jiang Huaiyu. After all, doctors rarely liked to answer medical questions over WeChat, just like how lawyers hated unsolicited legal questions from strangers.
Next time, you both can join, she suggested.
Jiang Huaiyu, having heard more details from both Zhou Hangyue and his parents, hesitated before sending Wen Shuyu a message: If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. Don’t carry this on your own.
Those last few words were what he truly wanted to say.
Seeing the message, Wen Shuyu paused, rubbing her eyes. It really was from Jiang Huaiyu.
Had he changed? He was actually showing concern.
Normally, their conversations were just curt exchanges of family instructions, often reduced to a single word: Okay or Sure.
Then came another message, Your parents have always been kind to me.
Wen Shuyu sighed, knocking her head lightly with her fist. Of course. He was just worried about her parents, not her.
From that day on, Wen Shuyu took time off from work at the firm to help her mother care for her father.
Even in private hospitals, the best doctors still preferred to work in public hospitals.
Despite the fierce competition for medical resources, Wen Shuyu managed to secure a VIP room for her father. But in a world governed by power, there’s always someone with more influence.
Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. For years, she had urged her parents to get regular check-ups. If they had waited until her father showed symptoms, she dreaded to think of the outcome.
As her father’s surgery approached, Wen Shuyu sent her mother home to rest, staying behind to watch over him for the night.
Wen’s father leaned back against the headboard, rubbing his nose bridge. “Yuyu, let’s talk. You’re not seeing anyone, and you keep skipping blind dates. Are you still waiting for Lu Yunheng?”
This was a question that had come up a lot lately, not just from her father but even from her friend Shen Ruoying.
Outsiders didn’t know the story between her and Lu Yunheng, but the people closest to her did. They had almost ended up together. Even her parents thought so. But that was then, and now there was no future to speak of.
Pulling herself from the memories, Wen Shuyu’s voice was muffled. “Dad, to be honest, I’m not waiting for him. It’s just that… I’ve grown out of the age where you easily fall for someone. It’s hard to feel that way about anyone anymore.”
Her father understood her well. Wen Shuyu was stubborn, headstrong—once she set her sights on something or someone, she wouldn’t let go.
“Yuyu, maybe what you’re feeling is just a filter of affection you’ve placed on him. You have to learn how to let go. I’m not trying to pressure you, but surgery carries risks, and your mom will need your help. I just hope someone could be there for you.”
He had raised her to persevere but had forgotten to teach her how to let go.
Shuyu lowered her head. “Dad, I…”
Seeing her hesitation, her father spoke gently. “I’m not forcing you. Go get some sleep, there’s a nurse here.”
“Okay, you rest well too.”
Shuyu carefully closed the door behind her, but her thoughts lingered on Lu Yunheng. She kept her head down and didn’t notice someone standing in her path.
Thud—she bumped into a firm chest.
The evening hush had swallowed the daytime noise, making the collision sound louder than it should have. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
It was Jiang Huaiyu’s voice. What was he doing here?
Shuyu lifted her eyes to meet his deep, dark gaze. His face, under the dim hospital lights, was unreadable.
“When did you get here?” she asked, suddenly worried that he might have overheard the conversation in the room. She didn’t want Jiang Huaiyu to know about her failed relationship with Lu Yunheng. It was a small pride she held onto.
Jiang Huaiyu’s expression softened. “Just now. I wanted to see if Uncle Wen needed anything.”
His parents had visited often in the past few days. Shuyu figured that once again, Jiang Huaiyu was here because they had asked him to come. She politely responded, “We’re okay for now, thank you. And thanks to Aunt Jun and Uncle Jiang too. I’m sorry to trouble you so late.”
“There’s no need to be so formal. Let me give you a ride home.”
“Alright, thank you,” Shuyu said, feeling too drained to drive herself.
It was the first time she’d ridden in Jiang Huaiyu’s car. Without hesitation, she settled into the passenger seat.
The car was spotless, simple, and free of unnecessary decoration—just like him.
As they drove through the quiet streets of Nancheng, neon lights flickered in the distance like scattered stars. The skyline stretched endlessly into the horizon.
Shuyu, feeling overwhelmed, remained silent, resting her head against the window. Her phone was open to a search engine.
On the screen, the search term “liver tumor” lingered.
She knew she shouldn’t be Googling health issues but couldn’t help herself.
The breeze from outside tangled her loose hair, irritating her eyes. She tried to smooth it down, but no matter how much she combed through, it wouldn’t lie flat. Frustrated, she fumbled with the window, unable to find the button to close it.
“Yuyu, move your arm. I’ll close it for you,” Jiang Huaiyu said from the driver’s seat, having witnessed her small struggle.
Hearing him call her “Yuyu,” Shuyu froze for a second before wordlessly retracting her arm.
Jiang Huaiyu had called her “Yuyu”—in a private moment, just the two of them.
On the day they had fallen out, she had explicitly told him that he could only use that name in front of their elders. In private, he wasn’t allowed to call her that anymore. It was a boundary she had set, marking the end of their closeness.
So this was the first time, since they were kids, that Jiang Huaiyu had privately called her “Yuyu.” His voice was different now—not the playful tone of their youth, nor the formal tone used in front of their parents. Now, his voice was rich and magnetic, carrying the weight of adulthood.
The sound of it stirred something in her. She turned her head and reminded him coldly, “Jiang Huaiyu, you’re not supposed to call me ‘Yuyu’ in private.”
He just smiled faintly. “Got it. I’ll be more careful next time.”
For him, “Yuyu” was a name etched into his memory, something he had first said as a child before he even knew how to say “mom” or “dad.”
But now, he wasn’t allowed to say it at all—and Shuyu had long forgotten the significance of it.
Every rule in their relationship had been set by her. Jiang Huaiyu had simply followed along.
At the next intersection, he turned smoothly into the right lane, but then Shuyu spoke up, “Take me to Qinheyuan. It’ll be easier for tomorrow.”
“Alright.” Before the light changed, he flicked the left turn signal and merged back onto the main road.
Qinheyuan was a high-end residential area in the heart of the city, unlike Xishan Linyu where her family lived. The entire complex was made up of luxurious, single-floor apartments.
As luck would have it, Jiang Huaiyu also had an apartment there. Even more coincidentally, their parents had bought homes in the same building, on different floors, to keep close.
When Shuyu reached for the door handle, a clear voice sounded from behind her. “It’ll be fine. I’ll pick you and Aunt Lin up tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Jiang Huaiyu,” she said, feeling her earlier annoyance start to fade.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
Sunlight spilled across the window ledge, and a gentle breeze swayed the potted red kalanchoe on the table.
The surgery was scheduled for ten in the morning.
Wen’s father patted his wife’s hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out before you know it.”
Old couples are the best companions in the end.
Jiang Huaiyu handed a box of beef dumplings and a carton of milk to Shuyu. “Eat something.”
The savory aroma of beef filled the air. It was from Shuyu’s favorite breakfast spot. She managed to eat two, but then her appetite disappeared.
Jiang Huaiyu reassured her, “Yuyu, Zhou Hangyue’s teacher and senior will be leading the surgery. Your dad will be okay.”
In his deep, concerned eyes, Shuyu could see the care he felt for her.
“Hopefully,” Wen Shuyu forced a slight smile.
At 8:30 AM, her father was wheeled into the operating room. Just before he disappeared behind the doors, he whispered to her, “Your mom is counting on you.”
“Dad, don’t worry. Once you’re out of surgery, I’ll even go on a blind date if it makes you happy.” She knew he was scared, scared of not making it through.
Outside the operating room, the red light blinked on. Wen Shuyu, her mother, Jiang Huaiyu, and his mother sat in silence on the bench, waiting. Time passed slowly, like sand slipping through an hourglass, each moment dragging into the next.
Suddenly, the heavy doors swung open, and a nurse rushed out, shouting, “We’re low on blood! Who here is B-type?”
“I am,” both Wen Shuyu and Jiang Huaiyu stood up at once, rushing to the door.
The nurse looked between them. “Direct family can’t donate blood.”
“I’ll do it,” Jiang Huaiyu said, gently pressing Shuyu’s wrist down as he rolled up his sleeve and followed the nurse.
Shuyu accompanied him to the blood donation area, watching as the needle pierced his vein. His brow furrowed slightly, though his face remained calm. Deep red blood flowed steadily, a stark contrast against his pale skin, but Jiang Huaiyu didn’t flinch.
The blood bag filled with 400 milliliters—about the size of a large water bottle. Jiang Huaiyu pressed a cotton ball against the crook of his arm and sat down to rest.
“Thank you, Jiang Huaiyu,” Shuyu said sincerely. She had thanked him so many times since her father had gotten sick.
His lips, which had been a little pale, curved into a faint smile. “No need to be so formal, Yuyu.”
Despite their agreement the night before, Jiang Huaiyu had broken the rule and called her “Yuyu” again. Shuyu bit her lip, before finally giving in. “I guess… I’ll allow you to call me ‘Yuyu’ from now on.”
“Yuyu.” They both smiled at each other, the tension between them dissolving.
His eyes, warm and gentle, lit up with a smile, and Shuyu’s heart skipped a beat. Why had she disliked him in the first place? It was something from so long ago that she could barely remember.
The second half of the surgery went smoothly, and by noon, the lights outside the operating room flicked off. The doctor emerged. “Everything went well. He’ll wake up once the anesthesia wears off.”
Wen’s mother jumped to her feet. “Thank you, thank you!”
It had been a close call, but all had turned out fine. Aside from the doctors, the person Wen Shuyu was most grateful to was Jiang Huaiyu. “Jiang Huaiyu, I bought you some food to help with your blood recovery.”
She couldn’t bring herself to call him “Huaiyu” casually, and “Huaiyu-ge” was something she’d only used as a child. The fact that they were born just seconds apart had made him the “older brother” in name only, tasked with looking after her.
Jiang Huaiyu opened the food container: stir-fried chives and liver, pineapple pork, tomato beef, steamed clams, and sautéed broccoli, along with grapes and longan for dessert.
Shuyu had done her research—Vitamin C helps with iron absorption.
There was too much food for one person, though. “Let’s eat together,” he suggested.
Shuyu had always refused to dine with him alone, except on family holidays. But today, sitting down for a quiet meal together felt… different. For Jiang Huaiyu, it was a rare moment.
Post-surgery care was a challenge. Their family housekeeper wasn’t trained for this, so through a friend’s recommendation, they hired a middle-aged couple as caretakers. The wife was particularly chatty and energetic.
“Auntie Wen, Uncle Wen, your son-in-law is so attentive. You’d think he was family!”
In a hospital where life and death are daily realities, it was common for children to make excuses or leave their parents in others’ hands. But a son-in-law, visiting rain or shine, handling everything personally—well, that was rare. Especially for someone who wasn’t even related by blood.
Wen’s mother smiled. “He’s not actually our son-in-law, just a friend’s child. Though I wouldn’t mind if he was.”
The caretaker looked disappointed. “What a shame. They look perfect together.”
Wen’s mother agreed inwardly. She couldn’t force her daughter’s feelings, but she still hoped to push Shuyu in that direction. “Yuyu, love can grow, you know.”
Shuyu pouted, pushing back. “Mom, stop matchmaking. If I could’ve fallen for him, I would have already. And if he could’ve liked me, it wouldn’t have taken this long. Please stop pairing us up.”
Outside the room, Jiang Huaiyu overheard every word, his heart taking yet another blow.
First, she had told her father that she couldn’t fall for anyone anymore. Now, she was saying that if she were ever going to like him, it would have already happened. Could her message be any clearer?
It felt like his heart had been torn out time and again over the past 26 years. The pain wasn’t new.
Why was he even relieved? It wasn’t like she was staying single because of him.
Leaning against the wall, Jiang Huaiyu suddenly wanted a cigarette, but his pockets were empty.
Just then, Shuyu opened the door to get some air and heard his steady voice say:
“Yuyu, I heard everything.”