Chapter 13 – A Clash in Parenting Beliefs

The parenting principles Qin Yushen had grown up with were clearly different from Shuhui’s.

His methods did indeed make children mature faster and more disciplined—but at the cost of countless tears and pain.

Even the most obedient child would have times when they threw a tantrum.

How could you expect a two-year-old, caught in the throes of emotion, to understand reason?

Qin Suining finally got her wish—nestled in the big bed, with Daddy on one side and Mommy on the other. Her swollen, red eyes finally stopped shedding tears.

“Happy now?” Shuhui wiped her daughter’s face with a towel.

“Ehee…” Qin Suining grinned, two tiny baby teeth showing. She kissed her mommy, then turned to pat her daddy’s cheek.

Then, tilting her head thoughtfully: “Mommy, where’s little brother George?”

Shuhui: “…?”

What, you want me to fetch you a brother?

Luckily the thought didn’t stick—soon the little girl lay down obediently to sleep. Otherwise, Shuhui’s headache would have doubled.

After all, in the latest Peppa Pig episodes, the family had already responded to the call for a “third child.”

Qin Yushen lay neatly on the right side, his expression deliberately softened so as not to scare her again. In his eyes, Shuhui spoiled the child too much. He would arrange for professional childcare experts to assist in raising her.

The main lights were turned off, leaving only the warm glow of the bedside lamp. The family of three lay in the big bed.

Across the room, the little bed meant for Qin Suining sat empty. Shuhui had always slept separately from her daughter—her grandmother had repeatedly warned her never to sleep together, afraid her poor sleeping posture would hurt the child.

But after tonight’s commotion, Shuhui completely forgot, and fell into a deep sleep.

Qin Yushen, always a light sleeper, found himself wide awake tonight. Listening to the steady breathing around him, his own breathing grew faintly erratic.

Under the blanket, a long, slender leg stretched out—landing squarely on his stomach.

Completely thrown off, he propped himself up on his elbow.

He saw Shuhui curled sideways, hugging Qin Suining like a stuffed toy. The little girl’s face was squished red from the embrace.

Qin Yushen silently rescued his daughter, setting her safely at his other side. The bed was big enough for three.

Now it was he who ended up in the middle.

The emptiness in her arms made Shuhui frown in her sleep. She reached out, latching onto the nearest body with both arms and legs.

This “stuffed toy” was much bigger than before—though not nearly as soft.

She mumbled incoherently, like in complaint, but clung to him like an octopus and drifted deeper into sleep.

Qin Yushen stiffened completely. Twice he tried to push her away—twice she immediately latched back on.

So this was why the master bedroom had a child’s bed.

Warm softness in his arms, the faint sweetness of her scent filling his nose… His mind betrayed him, flashing back to that night, when a trembling, delicate flower had teased him beyond control.

He was a normal man, after all. His body stirred restlessly—desire both thrilling and torturous.

Closing his eyes, he silently recited Buddhist scriptures his grandfather had taught him. He didn’t know how long he endured before he finally drifted into a strange dream.

---

Sirens. Ambulance wails pierced the night.

At a crash site, a Maybach had been rammed at the side by a speeding car. The luxury vehicle crumpled, glass and metal mangled. Rescue workers hauled the injured onto stretchers, blood pooling on the ground.

Qin Yushen stood watching, detached, like an outsider.

Then he saw himself—an identical figure rushing frantically from another car toward the wreck. Panic and dread twisted his face, raw and unguarded.

Absurd, Qin Yushen thought. His grandfather had drilled composure into him since childhood—how could he ever look like that?

But “he” ran straight to the accident site—then suddenly the dream shifted into his perspective.

The Maybach was wrecked, black smoke rising from its shell.

“Rear passenger, severe head trauma. Breathing, pulse, heartbeat—all stopped. Confirmed deceased.” A doctor’s voice reported clinically.

Behind him, a child wailed, tearing the night apart: “Mommy! Mommy!!”

Qin Yushen’s heart seized violently, as though it had stopped. Breath came short and painful. An immense, indescribable sorrow drowned him.

It was like the most precious treasure of his life had been ripped away.

Through misty vision, he saw the woman on the stretcher—black hair matted with blood, face smeared crimson.

He tried desperately to see her features.

When the haze cleared, the dead woman’s face revealed itself clearly—

He jolted awake in bed, chest heaving violently.

The bizarre dream had felt too real.

How could he dream of Shuhui’s death?

He barely even knew her. No way it could affect him so deeply…

Just a dream. Not real.

Still unsettled, he got up, gently carried Qin Suining to her small bed, then went into the bathroom to shower, needing to clear his head.

Otherwise, every time he closed his eyes, that scene replayed—soaked in crushing grief.

When he came out, it was only a little past five a.m.

Drying his hair, he intended to catch a short nap.

But the sight that greeted him—Shuhui sprawled diagonally across the big bed, hogging most of the blanket and even his pillow, nearly rolling off the edge.

He stared down at her for a long while—before realizing the corner of his lips had curled faintly upward.

Sharp-tongued by day, yet so foolish in sleep.

How could she possibly die in a car accident? Dreams were false—always the opposite of reality.

His mood eased. Not wanting to wake her, he left her the blanket and slipped into the guest room.

Sitting on the wooden bed, it creaked loudly under his weight.

He narrowed his eyes but dismissed it, lying down and turning over.

Crash!

The entire foot of the bed collapsed, the frame tilting down.

“…?”

He instantly flicked on the light.

“……”

Who the hell had sawed off the bed legs of the guest room bed?

---

Next morning, around ten. A fine drizzle misted the autumn air.

Qin Suining still slept soundly. Shuhui, rubbing her sore neck, stepped out of the master bedroom—just in time to see Liu Ma directing servants hauling a bed frame out of the guest room.

“Good morning, Young Madam.” the maids chorused.

Shuhui nodded, uneasy. “How did you know the bed was broken?”

She had planned to saw off all four legs before reporting it.

Her question made the room fall strangely quiet.

The younger maids blushed, avoiding her gaze. The sturdier aunties, however, shot her teasing looks that left her completely confused.

Liu Ma quickly intervened with a laugh. “You old busybodies, don’t get cheeky with Young Madam.”

After all, the Young Master himself had mentioned it that morning—the guest bed was broken and needed replacing. First night together as a married couple, and the bed in the guest room already collapsed?

Who wouldn’t draw their own conclusions?

Surely the young couple had been too fiery, trying too many… variations.

Even solid sandalwood couldn’t withstand it.

But of course Liu Ma didn’t allow anyone to say it aloud in front of Shuhui—it wouldn’t be proper, and the young madam was surely too thin-skinned.

With the guest room still full of wood splinters, Liu Ma ushered Shuhui away.

“It was the Young Master who told us early this morning, Young Madam…”