Ji Xuan’s frustration melted away completely as Ji Yu cried in earnest. She clung to Xiao Yu and sobbed, “M-Mommy, not having money is g-good… you get to eat yummy food…”

Xiao Yu: “……”

That completely threw her off. What was she even trying to say in the first place?

Xiao Ruoguang chimed in helpfully, “Big sis, steamed buns are really tasty.”

He pulled out the card Ji Xuan had given him earlier and added, “Tomorrow, let’s ask Uncle Lin to drive us out to buy some.”

Ji Yu, finally comforted, sniffled and nodded. “O-okay. Th-thank you, little brother…”

Then Xiao Ruoguang continued, “Every night after dinner, Mommy and I used to go out for a walk.”

Ji Yu stomped her foot angrily. “Daddy’s never gone on a walk with me!”

Ji Xuan quickly defended himself, “It’s not like never!”

Ji Yu pointed at him accusingly. “Barely a few times!”

Xiao Yu quickly jumped in to smooth things over, “Uh… our walks were just to go buy next-day steamed buns. They’re half-price in the evening. It doesn’t really count as a proper walk. And the buns aren’t that great. We only ate them because we didn’t have much money.”

Ji Yu paused, then asked curiously, “Th-then what do you eat with money?”

Before Xiao Yu could answer, Xiao Ruoguang shouted excitedly, “Meat buns, seaweed rolls, shumai, scallion pancakes, and—and soup dumplings! The really good kind!”

Ji Yu’s mouth immediately watered. “I’ve had shumai and soup dumplings before—they’re so good!”

Xiao Ruoguang looked down with pitiful eyes and said softly, “I haven’t had them yet…”

Ji Yu gently patted her little brother’s head and said, “Tomorrow morning, let’s have Uncle Lin drive us out. We’ll get you some shumai and soup dumplings, and you can get me some steamed buns. Deal?”

With the terms agreed upon, the two siblings walked off hand-in-hand to find their driver, Uncle Lin, to make arrangements for the morning outing.

Only after they left did Ji Xuan turn to Xiao Yu and say, “You said you earned 3,200 a month. A child doesn’t eat that much. Did it really have to come down to living off steamed buns?”

His voice carried a note of irritation, and his gaze was noticeably cold.

Xiao Yu leaned back against the sofa and smiled as she called out, “Big Sis Wang, could you go upstairs and help get the bed ready for me?”

Sister Wang immediately understood that Xiao Yu wanted to talk privately with Ji Xuan, and she quietly left, even pulling Kong Yuqing along under the pretense of needing help.

Once they were alone, Xiao Yu turned to Ji Xuan and asked calmly, “You keep thinking everything I did was wrong. But do you even know why I did it? Do you know why I got into gambling that year? Ji Xuan, you never pulled me out from the bottom of the cliff—so how do you get to blame me for falling there in the first place?”

Ji Xuan frowned. “I don’t understand. The Xiao family helped the Ji family when we were struggling. My grandfather never forgot that. When the Xiao family got into trouble, he did what he could. He even hoped I’d marry you, to protect the family assets. When I did marry you, I didn’t treat you poorly. I gave you full control of the household. I never tried to guard against you.”

His voice grew sharper as he pointed toward the staircase behind him. “You? You tried to abort Ji Yu. You gambled away the Xiao family fortune. You even dragged down part of the Ji family’s business. But forget all that—do you even remember why we divorced?”

Xiao Yu looked toward the staircase, her brows slowly knitting together. She had never deliberately tried to recall the reason for their divorce, but now, standing there and staring at those steps, the memories that the original Xiao Yu had fought so hard to suppress came flooding back.

The original Xiao Yu had been a fiercely stubborn person—stubborn to an almost unreasonable degree.

She came from a traditional family of musicians. Wealthy, yes, but not in the realm of billionaires. Her family had assets in the tens of millions, accumulated through years of performing at music festivals, galas, and other events.

Her father, Mr. Xiao, was a renowned pianist. Her mother, on the other hand, was a more modest violinist. Mr. Xiao was a gentle man, low-key by nature, and rarely involved in business matters. His personality was soft-spoken, but his music—bold and commanding.

Though he never built a business empire, Mr. Xiao had strong social connections. After all, the circles a concert pianist moved in were rarely ordinary.

It was during a time when the Ji family nearly collapsed due to a major funding crisis that their paths crossed. Ji Xuan’s grandfather, an avid lover of piano music, had met Mr. Xiao through this shared interest. After listening to Mr. Xiao perform and sharing the Ji family’s troubles with him, Mr. Xiao didn’t make any promises—but…

But Mr. Xiao had quietly reached out to many people, and a few of them—trusting his word—stepped in to help the Ji family through their crisis.

This was what Ji Xuan had meant when he said the Xiao family once came to the Ji family’s aid in their time of need.

Xiao Yu was the only child of the Xiao family. Her parents, constantly traveling for performances and concerts, never considered having a second child. Especially her mother, who was still chasing her own musical ambitions and believed she had yet to reach her full potential.

From the day Xiao Yu was born, her father began teaching her piano, hoping she would grow into a celebrated pianist like himself—unlike her mother, who remained relatively unknown in the music world.

Unfortunately, just as her mother lacked talent in the violin, Xiao Yu had little aptitude for the piano. Even under the guidance of world-renowned instructors, she barely managed to pass all the graded piano exams. But she never won any major competitions or stood out at music festivals.

Though her father never forced her, her mother remained unwilling to give up. And Xiao Yu, still young and going through a rebellious phase, grew to resent the piano that bound her every moment. She came to despise her mother’s relentless pressure and her father’s helpless silence. Their household was filled with constant arguments—right up to the last time she ever saw them.

Her parents died in a car crash, on their way back from the New York Music Festival.

Xiao Yu never got the chance to confront her mother about trying to control her life, nor did she get to attend a concert with her father, as he had once promised. In an instant, she became an orphan.

The Xiao family’s inheritance—substantial though not enormous—was enough to attract greedy relatives, who pounced like wolves. Even with many influential friends her father had made, none could stop the exploitation. That year, she was just shy of turning eighteen. But people who are greedy always find a way—funeral expenses, ancestral rites, anything could be turned into an excuse.

Only the Ji family stood by her. Despite the gossip and criticism, they supported her as in-laws. They helped organize her parents’ funeral with dignity, and afterward, they arranged her marriage to Ji Xuan.

Grandpa Ji had been a truly kind man. He said Ji Xuan had volunteered to take on the responsibility. The wedding banquet could be held in full to silence gossip, but the marriage certificate wouldn’t be official until she turned twenty.

Two years later, whether they went through with registering the marriage would be entirely up to her.

Everything changed, however, because of what began as mutual love at first sight. On the night of her 18th birthday banquet, she and Ji Xuan gave in to temptation.

That was how Ji Yu came to be.

But the original Xiao Yu had been carrying a secret, one that marked the beginning of her downfall.

She suspected her parents’ deaths were not accidental. Combined with her mother’s desperate hope for her to become a pianist, this planted a deep obsession in her heart.

After their deaths, the dream of becoming a pianist became like a lifeline to someone drowning—something to cling to, something she had to achieve. She was determined to fulfill her mother’s last wish. And she had to go to that world, to find the one responsible.

So during her pregnancy with Ji Yu, she practiced the piano obsessively. But limited talent and the physical toll of pregnancy gradually pushed her toward a breakdown. When she finally accepted that she could never reach the heights her mother had dreamed of, something inside her shattered.

That’s when she turned to gambling.

That same year, Ji Yu was born.

And once she started gambling, she didn’t stop. Two years of deeper and deeper self-destruction followed.

Still, Ji Xuan didn’t give up on her. On her 20th birthday, he asked if she would register their marriage. She said yes.

They became legally married—but deep down, Xiao Yu had already realized something.

The moment she tried to abort Ji Yu, Ji Xuan had begun to grow distant. By the time they registered the marriage, he was simply acting out of a sense of responsibility as a father.

Xiao Yu held it all in. She never begged him, never explained herself.

On the day they divorced, she had invited her gambling friends over once again. They were betting thousands, tens of thousands at a time, playing game after game.

And that’s when two-year-old Ji Yu fell down the stairs.

She had woken from her nap, and finding no one nearby, wandered off looking for her mother. She called out as she searched. One misstep on the stairs—and she tumbled all the way down.

Xiao Yu glanced over lightly. She saw Ji Yu staggering to her feet, then turned back to continue playing cards with the others. Ji Yu stood at the stairs, unsure what to do, watching the strangers laughing and shouting happily.

That day, Auntie Kong wasn’t home, and the servants had all slacked off and gone to sleep. Ji Xuan was the first to come back and find Ji Yu sleeping by the stairs.

Ji Xuan frowned as he looked over at Xiao Yu’s card table. The room immediately quieted down; even the card players suddenly lowered their voices. Noticing the two working servants were missing, he didn’t think too much of it—he just dropped his bag on the sofa and went over to pick up Ji Yu.

But the moment Ji Xuan lifted her, he knew something was wrong. Ji Yu often fell asleep in odd places—on the sofa, the stairs, the floor, even under the mahjong table. But today, when he picked her up, the back of her head was damp.

Raising his hand, Ji Xuan saw a patch of bright red.

He shouted angrily for help, then rushed her to the hospital. Fortunately, Ji Yu wasn’t seriously hurt. She showed no signs of vomiting or other symptoms. The doctor kept her for just two or three days of observation before she was discharged, healthy and well.

Ji Xuan formally confronted the reality of his relationship with Xiao Yu for the first time. He stormed home angrily. The gamblers had already left, and the mahjong table had long been cleared. Only Xiao Yu stood at the door, looking lost and helpless.

He demanded to know what she was unhappy about—was it their marriage, or the fact they had a child? Did she want a divorce? Was that why she was torturing herself—and the child?

Xiao Yu didn’t say a word. Although Ji Xuan had only mentioned divorce casually, she agreed. He gave her 100 million yuan, and soon after, he discovered she had left the capital with the money. He stopped paying attention to her, and from then on, they became strangers.

At that time, Xiao Yu was stubborn but had already resolved to quit gambling and change her ways. Yet when Ji Xuan angrily confronted her, she refused to lower her pride and apologize. Even though she could have explained the reasons for her downfall—and even if she was wrong—she kept silent, unwilling to seek his understanding.

After leaving, despite her heartbreak, she quickly lost all the money Ji Xuan had given her gambling. Still, she never reached out to him.

When Xiao Yu found out she was pregnant, she regained her resolve. She was determined to become a pianist—and to raise the child that belonged only to her.

That confidence was shattered in the car accident. A pianist without her hands was like the walking dead. She spiraled into despair, and it was Xiao Ruoguang who took care of her all along.

Even though after the accident she shut herself off from everything—like a living corpse—Xiao Ruoguang still did his best to care for his mother.

Until finally, Xiao Yu completely gave up. Until the version of Xiao Yu we see today emerged.

Xiao Yu smiled faintly. Say what you will—maybe the original owner was just stubborn, maybe she was weak. On a monthly salary of 3,200 yuan, she spent most of it on piano lessons. She paid to learn from well-known professors, then taught beginner students to earn a little money in return. That cycle repeated for three years.

“Ji Xuan.” Xiao Yu returned from her thoughts. She looked up and fixed a calm, unwavering gaze on Ji Xuan, her voice flat and composed.

“I really wasn’t a good mother. I failed Ji Yu. I didn’t take good care of Ruoguang. I wasn’t even a good wife. I know I was wrong, and I’ve been trying to make up for it. So—what do you want to say?”

Ji Xuan squirmed under her gaze, suddenly at a loss for words. “I mean… that is…”

“Mm.” Xiao Yu nodded. “Go on. If I was wrong, I’ll apologize.”

Ji Xuan gave her a glance and said, “Why didn’t you take better care of Ruoguang with your 3,200 yuan salary?”

“Mm.” Xiao Yu responded quietly, then bowed her head slightly to him. “That was my fault. I’m sorry. I didn’t take good care of him. Anything else?”

Ji Xuan stared at her, dry-mouthed. Her attitude was too calm, too sincere—he couldn’t continue. After all, she had treated Ji Yu poorly in the past, she had walked away. But now she was back—treating Ji Yu well, treating Ruoguang well, and even treating herself well.

“No more?” Xiao Yu asked calmly.

Ji Xuan, being a man, wasn’t one to dwell on things. Most of it, he could let go. But what he could never forget was Ji Yu collapsed at the staircase—and Xiao Yu, sitting at the mahjong table.

Now, watching her bow her head and apologize without excuses or anger, Ji Xuan found himself unable to press the matter any further. The woman standing before him now… she was already doing much better.

“I guess… that’s it,” he said, almost to himself.

Xiao Yu went on, “There’s one more thing. Even though it’s been four years and it might be far too late, I still want to say it. About what happened with Ji Yu—I’m truly sorry. The moment I saw her collapse, I regretted it. I wanted to change, to make it right. I wanted to hold her and tell her I was sorry.

“Of course… none of that happened. And I’m not saying this so you’ll pity me or anything like that.

“But I believe that wrong is wrong, no matter how much time has passed. And this apology—I owe it to you, especially since, even after all these years, you’re still willing to reach out and help me.

“As for Ji Yu…”

Ji Xuan looked down and said, “Don’t tell her. She doesn’t remember any of it from when she was little. I just want her to grow up believing her mother always loved her.”

Xiao Yu let out a soft sigh and spoke on behalf of her past self, “Even if I no longer deserve to say this, I’ve always loved Ji Yu. I was too young. There were so many things I didn’t handle well—some things I just couldn’t handle. I made mistakes. But I never truly ignored her or treated her like a stranger.”

Ji Xuan looked at her—he’d waited a long time for this apology.

Then Xiao Yu looked at him and said, “Well then… could you ask Sister Wang to come down?”

Ji Xuan nodded and stood to go get her. But then a thought struck him. He turned back and asked, “Wait—what about the money I gave you?”

Unfortunately, Xiao Yu acted like she hadn’t heard a thing and called out loudly, “Sister Wang! Could you come downstairs for a moment?”

Her timing was perfect—she completely drowned out Ji Xuan’s voice.

Ji Xuan stared at her. “…You did that on purpose.”

Xiao Yu smiled. “Hm? What did you say?”

Ji Xuan began, “I said—”

But Xiao Yu quickly cut him off. “Oh, Sister Wang! You’re here? Let’s head upstairs.” With that, Sister Wang pushed Xiao Yu into the elevator.

Ji Xuan stared at the closing elevator doors before the realization hit him.

“Wait a second… don’t tell me… she lost the entire hundred million?!”

Inside the elevator, Sister Wang looked puzzled. “Madam, why does it feel like you’re avoiding the young master today?”

Xiao Yu patted her chest and sighed. “Ah, how do I put this? Some things are in the past, and because we’re related by blood, he sees I’ve changed and chooses not to hold it against me. But there are other things that are harder to explain. Terrifying, honestly.”

Sister Wang asked, “What kind of things?”

As the elevator doors opened, Xiao Yu peeked out and saw Ji Xuan glaring at them from the staircase. She immediately ducked back and whispered to Sister Wang,
“Like… losing the entire family fortune.”

Sister Wang froze. “…How much did you lose?”

Xiao Yu tilted her head, thinking, then said, “Around… a hundred million, over the span of three months?”

Sister Wang: “…”

Yeah, that was definitely hard to explain.

The next morning, Sister Wang wheeled Xiao Yu downstairs for breakfast. Ji Yu pointed to the steamed buns on the table and proudly announced, “Mommy, I bought those buns!”

Xiao Yu looked at the buns and made a face of mild disgust.

Ji Yu immediately pouted. “Mommy doesn’t like them?”

Xiao Yu calmly redirected the situation. “Mommy’s just a little tired of them. But your daddy hasn’t tried them yet—you can eat them with him.”

Ji Yu’s eyes lit up, and she smiled happily. “Okay~!”

Ji Yu carefully carried her steamed buns over and sat down beside Ji Xuan, while Xiao Ruoguang took the seat next to Xiao Yu.

Xiao Yu smiled as she picked up a shrimp dumpling and took a delicate bite. Xiao Ruoguang leaned closer and asked, “Mommy, is it good?”

Xiao Yu nodded.

Xiao Ruoguang beamed. “I bought it from that fancy hotel we used to pass by all the time. They had shrimp dumplings, soup dumplings, pan-fried dumplings… oh! And here—this is your favorite, the custard bun.”

Then he picked up another bun and said proudly, “And this one’s my favorite—the BBQ pork bun!”

Across the table, Ji Xuan glanced at the beautifully arranged spread of Cantonese dim sum in front of them, then looked down at what Ji Yu had brought: two cups of soy milk and a plate of plain steamed buns.

He suddenly felt… deeply wronged.

“Auntie Kong, didn’t you make breakfast today?” Ji Xuan finally couldn’t hold it in after forcing down a plain steamed bun.

Kong Yuqing walked out of the kitchen holding a custard bun and replied, “Breakfast? The young miss said we didn’t need to cook—she was bringing some back.”

Ji Xuan eyed the custard bun in her hand and hesitantly asked, “So… you’re not eating the buns she brought me?”

Kong Yuqing let out a small “Oh,” and said, “She gave each of us two, don’t worry. And the young master also shared a bunch of desserts he bought.”

Ji Xuan looked down at the plain steamed buns and overly sweet soy milk in front of him, then stared at his clueless daughter.

“You only bought buns?”

Ji Yu planted her hands on her hips, stood on her chair, and pointed at him indignantly.

“Are you saying you don’t like the buns I bought? Great-grandpa said you even used to eat coarse grains! One taste of the good life and you forget where you came from!”

Ji Xuan winced and rubbed his jaw. “Who taught you to talk like that? Just hearing it gives me a toothache.”

Ji Yu crossed her arms and plopped back down in her chair.

“Great-grandpa told me!”

Xiao Yu reached for another custard bun and asked casually, “Did your great-grandpa also tell you your dad had a nickname when he was little?”

Ji Yu’s eyes widened. “He had a nickname?”

Ji Xuan immediately shot Xiao Yu a glare.

“Don’t you dare.”

^_^