Zhao Nanyu lowered his gaze, suppressing the tender thoughts stirring in his heart. There was no rush—time was on his side. After all these years of patience, a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

He had a sharp memory, especially for grievances. Every single thing Song Luan had done to upset him—he remembered it all, down to the smallest detail. One day, he would settle every last score.

Meanwhile, the little one clinging to him, Shige, still wore a sulky expression. His chin rested on Zhao Nanyu’s shoulder, his face full of silent grievances, eyes avoiding everyone.

Song Luan thought he looked like he was throwing a small tantrum—maybe even mad at her. But no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t figure out why. Taking a couple of steps forward, she looked at him with concern.

“What’s wrong? Not happy?”

She smiled, lips curving gently, and before he could answer, she continued, “Why are you upset? Pouting like that—it’s not cute at all.”

Shige refused to admit anything. He shook his head and mumbled, “Not upset.”

He was just scared. The memories of being locked away before still haunted him. He liked this version of his mother—the warm one, the one who actually looked at him. Not the one who used to ignore him completely.

Song Luan couldn’t resist pinching his chubby little cheeks. “Lying isn’t something good boys do.”

But Shige still didn’t want to talk. He just clung tighter to his father’s shoulder, silent. Song Luan didn’t want to push him—kids had their little secrets. Maybe he just had a bad dream and was too embarrassed to tell her.

She chuckled. “Alright, alright, you don’t have to say. But remember—next time you get out of bed, wear your shoes. The floor’s cold.”

Shige nodded obediently, admitting his mistake. “It was my fault.”

Song Luan reached out to ruffle his hair, just about to say something, but before she could, Zhao Nanyu set him down and said flatly, “Go put on your shoes. Don’t let it happen again.”

Shige seemed reluctant to leave them, his wide, pitiful eyes turning to Song Luan, as if afraid that the moment he looked away, she would disappear again. He still remembered the fear of being alone—unable to find her, unable to open the door.

Zhao Nanyu’s expression remained unreadable as he said calmly, “No fussing.”

Shige lowered his head, then quietly padded off—barefoot—to find his shoes.

When reading about Zhao Nanyu, Song Luan had always thought he spoiled Shige. But seeing him now, it was clear his love wasn’t blind indulgence. He was strict when needed, never one to let bad habits slide.

She hesitated for a moment before daring to grumble, “You were too harsh on him just now.”

After all, he was only four. Zhao Nanyu could have said it more gently, but instead, he chose authority over warmth. Even she felt a little intimidated watching him.

Zhao Nanyu raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His gaze dropped to her bare feet.

“I seem to recall you don’t like wearing shoes at home either.”

He’d caught her running around barefoot more than once.

Song Luan choked on her words. “There’s carpet inside. It’s soft and comfortable, even without shoes. Besides, I’m not a child—what’s wrong with walking around barefoot?”

Zhao Nanyu let out a short huff, the ever-calm facade finally cracking just a little.

“I’d say Shige learned it from you.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Oh? Then did he learn it from me?”

Without thinking, Song Luan blurted out, “He likes you more and sticks to you more—maybe he really did learn it from you.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Of course, Shige was closer to his father—the original Song Luan had never treated him well.

She bit her lip. “Fine, fine, he learned it from me. Whatever. I just won’t do it anymore.”

Her tone was as stubborn as ever.

Just then, a crisp female voice called from outside. The maid in charge of delivering messages knocked lightly on the door.

“Third Miss, the Master asks for the Young Lord to come to the front courtyard. He has something to discuss.”

Song Luan responded, “Got it.”

She turned to Zhao Nanyu, tilting her chin up slightly. “You heard that—my father wants to see you.”

Zhao Nanyu took a leisurely sip of tea, unhurried as ever. Setting his cup down, his elegant peach-blossom eyes curved into a soft crescent as he spoke gently,

“Shige?”

Song Luan cleared her throat and replied seriously, “I’ll take care of him. You don’t have to worry.”

That was what she said, but she knew full well Zhao Nanyu wouldn’t truly feel at ease leaving the child with her. Her track record was terrible—what if she lost her mind again and hurt the boy?

If one looked closely, they’d notice that despite his curved smile, Zhao Nanyu’s eyes were devoid of warmth—cold as ice. Lately, he had found Song Luan different from before, even somewhat amusing, but deep down, he was well aware: he didn’t actually like her.

It was just novelty.

And novelty alone wasn’t enough to warrant trust.

But right now, he had no choice. He had to go to the front courtyard, and he couldn’t take Shige with him. That meant leaving the child in her care, whether he liked it or not.

She’d better not be lying to him. Otherwise, she’d be adding yet another mark to the ever-growing list of grievances in his mind.

After a brief silence, Zhao Nanyu finally smiled. “Then I’ll have to trouble you.”

Just as he spoke, Shige came running out, now properly wearing his shoes. Zhao Nanyu scooped him up and gave a firm instruction.

“Stay with your mother, behave, and don’t throw tantrums. Understand?”

Shige was uneasy, reluctant to let his father go, but he knew there was no stopping him. So, he obediently nodded. “Okay.”

Zhao Nanyu then personally tucked the little boy into Song Luan’s arms, still smiling.

“Much appreciated.”

Song Luan was caught off guard by his politeness and quickly waved her hands. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all! Really!”

She loved spending time with Shige—playing with him was fun. Plus, she wasn’t about to pass up such a great chance to bond with her son.

Zhao Nanyu frowned slightly, momentarily unable to tell whether the joy on her face was genuine or just an act. Without another word, he pushed the door open and left without looking back.

On his way from the back courtyard to the front, he passed through the rear garden. Just as he stepped out, a slender figure appeared at the corner of the covered walkway.

A young girl in a soft pink dress, her cheeks blooming like peach blossoms, gracefully approached him and gave a proper bow.

“Brother-in-law.”

Zhao Nanyu wasn’t particularly familiar with the Song family, but he still recognized her—Song Luan’s younger sister, Song Yu.

He took a step back, maintaining a polite distance. “Fourth Miss.”

Song Yu’s cheeks flushed an even deeper red. Her gaze lingered on him, flickering with hesitation before she hurriedly lowered her eyes. “Father has been waiting for quite a while. Let me lead you there.”

Zhao Nanyu could see right through her intentions. His expression darkened as he immediately refused, his voice cold.

“That won’t be necessary. I know the way.”

Song Yu bit down so hard she nearly cracked her teeth. Her face paled, but she still stepped closer, her watery eyes looking up at him.

“There’s no need to be so formal with me, Brother-in-law.”

Zhao Nanyu’s face remained icy, his words clipped.

“No need.”

With that, Zhao Nanyu strode away without a second glance.

Song Yu stood frozen in place, her whole body stiff with frustration. She stomped her foot, seething.

Brother-in-law was impossible! No mercy whatsoever!

She had already summoned every ounce of courage just to approach him—there was no way she could push any further. She wasn’t like Song Luan, who was utterly shameless and could do as she pleased without a second thought.

Though Song Yu was also born of a concubine, the distinction between legitimate and illegitimate daughters wasn’t particularly strict in the Song family. She had everything her sisters had, yet she remained painfully average. Her looks were unremarkable, paling in comparison to Song Luan’s striking beauty. She lacked the literary talent of her other sisters. In every aspect, she was utterly ordinary.

Timid and insecure, she swallowed her resentment and turned on her heel, heading toward Song Luan’s quarters.

Meanwhile, Song Luan was sitting on the couch, gently coaxing Shige, who clung to her like a little koala. She had no idea what was wrong with him today—he seemed on the verge of tears.

She patted his back patiently. “Shige, do you want to go outside and play?”

Keeping him cooped up indoors all day wasn’t good for him. He was far too quiet for a little boy—he should be more energetic, more cheerful. Song Luan worried about him all the time.

But Shige shook his head and held on tighter, refusing to let go.

“I don’t want to.”

Song Luan sighed. If he didn’t want to go out, there was no helping it.

“Alright then, we’ll stay here and wait for your father to come back, okay?”

Shige gave a small hum of agreement.

It was the first time he had ever held onto her this tightly. His little arms were locked firmly around her neck, as if he was terrified she might leave him behind.

That was when Song Yu arrived. She smiled at Song Luan, her voice sweet as she greeted her.

“Third Sister.”

Song Luan knew her well. Song Yu was the quiet, reserved type—cautious and timid.

“Fourth Sister.”

Song Yu had always been jealous of her third sister’s beauty. There were plenty of men in the capital who admired Song Luan, including many wealthy and distinguished young lords. If not for what happened back then…

She quickly pushed those thoughts aside and forced a gentle smile. Reaching out, she tried to touch the little boy clinging to Song Luan, only for Shige to shrink away, deliberately avoiding her hand.

An awkward silence settled between them as Song Yu laughed, embarrassed.

Song Luan offered an explanation, her tone light.

“Shige doesn’t like being touched by strangers.”

Song Yu’s gaze grew complicated as she looked at Song Luan.

She had heard this morning that her third sister had returned with Zhao Nanyu. At first, she didn’t believe it—after all, Song Luan never liked her husband. Every time she came home, she had nothing but complaints. It wasn’t just their family who knew about their strained relationship, practically everyone familiar with them was aware of it.

Yet the servant who relayed the news claimed that the two had been unusually close, their demeanor nothing like a resentful couple.

How could things have changed so suddenly?

It didn’t make sense.

More than that, her sister had never cared for this child. She had never once seen her hold him.

“Of course,” Song Yu finally said, forcing a smile. “Shige isn’t used to me—I was being presumptuous.”

Shige clung tightly to Song Luan’s collar, his face expressionless and silent. But deep down, his dislike was obvious.

He hated this aunt.

More than once, he had overheard her urging his mother to divorce his father, whispering about other men in her ear.

He buried his face into Song Luan’s neck and spoke in a soft, milky voice.

“Mother, I’m a little hungry.”

=^_^=