Chapter 17: In the Dead of Night, She Truly Deserved to Die!

That night, Lin Shuqiao slept soundly and sweetly. In her dreams, she beat and cursed Jiang He tens of thousands of times, indulging thoroughly in her revenge-fantasy dream and waking up completely refreshed.

But Lu Zheng didn’t sleep at all.

All night long, Lin Shuqiao tossed and turned in his arms. One moment she was kicking and punching him, muttering curses nonstop—forcing Lu Zheng to constantly stay alert in case she launched a surprise attack on his sensitive areas.

The next moment, she would snuggle into his chest, mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch.

The scent lingering at his nose and the softness in his arms only grew more vivid. Lu Zheng’s nerves tensed and relaxed in cycles the entire night, flipping between restraint and tension.

By the time the rooster crowed in the family housing compound, Lu Zheng finally realized—an entire night had passed just like that.

He lowered his eyes and saw her delicate, fair face… and his own hand still resting on her shoulder.

Had his hand really stayed there all night?

Lu Zheng frowned and lifted the offending “culprit hand.”

It must’ve moved on its own—surely not his own conscious decision.

They were about to divorce. She had made it clear how badly she wanted to leave. He even knew about Jiang He and her—there was no way he would’ve held her willingly.

Lu Zheng got up and left the room, not sparing even a glance back at the bed as he closed the door.

When Lin Shuqiao woke up, she felt completely refreshed and had no idea what she’d done to Lu Zheng during the night.

The moment she stepped out, she saw Lu Ziqi sitting obediently on a chair, eating leftover steamed buns from last night.

The buns had gone hard overnight, and Lu Ziqi’s cheeks puffed out with effort as he struggled to swallow.

Seeing this, Lin Shuqiao hurried to the kitchen, grabbed the thermos, poured him a glass of warm water, and gently patted his back. “Don’t choke. Have some water.”

“I’m so sorry—I overslept and left you hungry.”

Lin Shuqiao couldn’t help but recall her past life.

Back then, she never cooked. All she thought about was freeloading meals off other families in the compound. During mealtimes, she never even considered Lu Ziqi.

A few times, Auntie Wang had asked how Lu Ziqi was eating. She would shamelessly shrug and say:
“How should I know? I’m not his mom.”

Then she’d ignore Auntie Wang’s shocked and disgusted stare while stuffing herself with the food she’d snatched from her kitchen.

Once, after repeated pleas and warnings from her daughter-in-law, Auntie Wang finally refused to let Lin Shuqiao mooch meals again.

Lin Shuqiao had even dragged Lu Ziqi into her excuse, claiming the boy was sick and the doctor said he needed nutritious food to recover.

That very morning, Auntie Wang had seen Lu Zheng carrying Lu Ziqi to the hospital, so she believed the story.

Feeling sorry, she took half of the pig’s feet she had simmered for her grandson and gave it to Lin Shuqiao—reminding her to keep it warm and deliver it to Lu Ziqi, in case cold pig’s feet upset his stomach.

Lin Shuqiao had been overjoyed to get them. She’d sprinted home, shut the door, and devoured the piping hot pig’s feet all by herself.

Her excuse wasn’t entirely false—Lu Ziqi was sick at the time.

But he wasn’t sick from illness—he was sick from starvation.

Lu Zheng had been away on a mission for seven days, and during that time, Lu Ziqi went completely unfed—surviving on cold water and passing out from hunger.

When Lu Zheng came back and rushed the near-dead boy to the hospital, his gaze toward Lin Shuqiao was cold enough to pierce bone.

And yet, Lin Shuqiao had paid no attention to Lu Zheng’s attitude or to the reason behind Lu Ziqi’s condition. She simply kept using that lie to mooch meals for days.

Even in her last years, at age 38, she often woke from nightmares and wanted to slap herself.

She truly deserved to die.

And she did. She died of cancer—a fitting end, really.

Now, looking at this four-year-old child, she was full of guilt and sorrow.

She crouched down and rubbed his head. “I’ll go make breakfast now—really quickly.”

Lu Ziqi looked at this familiar woman performing such unfamiliar actions and felt completely lost.

Even the glass of warm water in front of him—he wasn’t sure whether to drink it or not.

Back in the day, if Lin Shuqiao saw him eating her leftover buns, she’d snatch them away, hurl them to the floor, stomp them into a mess, and scold him for being wasteful.

But she was the one truly wasting food.

Lu Ziqi would feel so wronged—but he never dared cry. He’d just stare blankly at the bun that had been crushed into black mush on the floor.

Now this woman was afraid he’d choke and gave him water… and even said she’d cook for him?

Lu Ziqi grew increasingly alarmed.

Could it be… she was just trying to win him over so she could sell him off to buy pigs?

After a while, Lu Ziqi quietly crept into Lin Shuqiao’s room.

It was shockingly clean—nothing like he remembered. Clothes and bedding were all neatly folded and stored in the wardrobe.

At the bottom of the wardrobe sat a familiar blue cloth bundle. Lu Ziqi remembered it clearly—Lin Shuqiao had brought it when she married his father.

She had been acting strange toward both him and Dad lately.

She must be planning to steal Dad’s money and run away again.

Lu Ziqi tiptoed to the bundle and gently began to untie it.

The room was silent except for the soft rustling as he rummaged through it.

Suddenly—
“Ziqi, are you looking for money to buy candy?”

Lin Shuqiao’s voice rang out, startling him so much he dropped to his knees, frozen in place, slowly turning his head.

But instead of an angry glare, he saw Lin Shuqiao smiling, holding a bowl of food. Her tone was gentle—completely different from what he expected.

“Come on, time to eat,” she said, as if she hadn’t seen a thing.

Seeing no sign of suspicion, Lu Ziqi dazedly walked out and sat down at the dining table.

He only picked up a tiny piece of fried egg after watching her eat hers first.

Probably not poisoned.

Lin Shuqiao couldn’t help but laugh at his caution but still explained seriously,
“Don’t worry, I’m not planning to take your dad’s money.”

After all, he was just a child. Once he realized his suspicions had been right, his face flushed bright red. He lowered his head and stayed silent.

“I treated you badly before,” Lin Shuqiao said sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

Lu Ziqi said nothing.

After breakfast, Lin Shuqiao prepared to handle a big matter.

She slung her large bamboo basket over her back and asked Lu Ziqi sweetly,
“I’m going to—uh—collect money now. Do you want to stay home like a good boy or come with me?”

Lu Ziqi immediately chose to go with her.

Don’t think he didn’t hear that slip—she said she was going to rob someone!